Differences
by The Telepathic Hawk
Summary: "What if I told you, Burt, that I don't think your son is insane at all? What if I told you that I think he is very special?" Crossover with X-Men. Rating may go up in later chapters. Previously Untitled As Of Yet
1. Chapter 1

Title: [Untitled As Of Yet] Prologue  
Author: telepathichawk  
Rating: PG  
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Puck/Kurt (eventually), Will/Emma, Finn/Rachel, Burt/Carole, Ensemble  
Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Xover  
Warnings: Almost completely AU. Past attempted suicide.  
Spoilers: None.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I make no profit from this.  
Author Notes: I know I already have two other works in progress and this has probably already been done a hundred times, but it just wouldn't leave me alone. Let me know if you think it's worth continuing or not. Thanks and happy reading! T.H. P.S. If anyone can think of a title or a better summary I'd very much appreciate it! I can't think of a thing!  
Summary: "What if I told you, Burt, that I don't think your son is insane at all? What if I told you that I think he is very special?" Crossover with X-Men.  
Word Count: ~1,000

"Mr. Burtram Hummel?"

Burt Hummel, owner and operator of Hummel's Tires and Lube, froze over the engine he was working on and didn't even resist the urge to growl, low and menacing, from the back of his throat when he heard the voice. No one had called him Burtram since his wife had died and before her the only person who had ever used his full name was his mother and she had only used it then when she was angry with him. The fact that a voice belonging to someone he didn't know had even known it put him on the defensive to begin with. But what really got to him was the tone the voice had taken. It was cool and calm, more collected than anyone had a right to sound. It was the same tone of voice that the doctors had used when they had still been trying new things to "help" his son. Things like electroshock therapy and ice baths that they didn't tell him about until they had already failed. It was the same voice the doctors had used the day they told Burt that his little boy, the light of his life and his only reason for living, would have to be drugged into a stupor and kept in a padded room and straight jacket for the rest of his natural life or he would most certainly try to kill himself. Again. To get the voices to stop. Yes, he knew that tone of voice. He knew it and he hated it with every fiber of his being. He growled again and picked up the largest wrench he had in the tool box next to him before he turned around and slammed it threateningly into his palm.

The man in front of him wasn't what he had been expecting. He had been expecting someone in a suit, trying desperately to stay young with hair dye and botox, a superior smirk on his face, his arms crossed as he looked down his nose at Burt and at the shop. That's what all of the doctors always seemed to look like. Instead what he got was a man in well-worn slacks and a turtle neck sweater, both in black, with a black blazer, also well-worn, tossed over the ensemble like an afterthought. He was bald and probably ten years Burt's senior and not trying to hide his age at all. Instead he seemed at peace with the lines around his eyes and his mouth that let everyone know he laughed and smiled a lot. And he wasn't looking down his nose at anything. Instead he had a small smile on his face and seemed a little impressed, even, at what was going on around him. Burt looked at his hands. Lily-white and smooth. He probably hadn't done a days hard labor in his life. But, his eyes said that he knew it and had nothing but respect for those who did. And he was in a wheel chair. Burt nearly dropped his wrench. You couldn't exactly threaten a guy in a wheelchair. There were just certain things that weren't done.

"Carlos! Steve! Shut it up!" He shouted. The war that went on every day on separate sides of the shop between Carlos' Spanish pop and Steve's classic rock was normally a source of amusement for all of them, seeing who could get it the loudest that day, who would give it up first, but right then he could hardly hear himself think.

"Something up, boss?" Steve's head poked around a car, even as his music was shut off.

"Can you all give me a minute?" Burt asked. The man in front of him had eyes that meant business and something in him said that it was something that he was going to want to hear.

"Yeah…Sure…" Steve looked wary but he, and Mitch and Byron, headed toward the break room without another protest.

"Burt…you okay?" Carlos called. Burt gave a quick nod to his best friend and then jerked his head toward the break room.

"Just need a minute, okay, Carlos?"

"You call if you need anything."

"Got it." Burt waited until the door and shut and leaned against the car he'd been working on, "No one calls me Burtram or Mr. Call me Burt or call me Hummel. Now, who are you and what do you want?"

"Certainly, Burt," The man wheeled himself slightly closer and Burt realized when he held out his hand to shake and the shake was firm and even that his tone wasn't from condescension like the doctors, but refinement. It made Burt feel uncomfortable in his own shop and he didn't like the feeling, "I'm sorry to have come during your work day. I would have much rather come to you at home, but this couldn't wait a moment longer. I wanted to speak to you about your son, Burt. I wanted to speak to you about Kurt."

"My son…" Burt pulled his hand back as if he'd been burned and felt the anger rise in his chest again, "Let me tell you about my son. Three years ago my son took razors to his wrists to try to get the voices in his head to shut the fuck up and now he lives up at the sanatorium so that I don't come home to find a cold body one day instead of my little boy. He spends his days in a padded room drooling and wetting himself and doesn't even know me when I visit. The doctors can't do shit for him. No one can. And it hurts like hell that I can't. So, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to get the fuck out of my shop and stop reminding me of all of that. I'll give you ten seconds."

"Please," The man held up a hand in a calming gesture, "Give me one minute first."

"You have thirty seconds."

"What if I told you, Burt, that I don't think your son is insane at all? What if I told you that I think he is very special and with the proper care he could learn to control what he hears and live a full, happy, productive life? What if I told you that I could help him?"

Burt had straightened as the man spoke and his eyebrow rose so high it was almost hidden by his hat. He tried to keep the hope he felt rising in his chest down because he knew from the past that all it did was hurt when it was crushed again, but someone this felt different. This man felt different. There was something about him that…Burt looked him right in the eye and saw only honesty when he asked, "Who are you?"

The man smiled slightly again, "Burt, my name is Professor Charles Xavier and I run a school for a group of very gifted young people in Westchester, New York. I believe Kurt is one of those special children. If we could just speak a little longer I'll tell you why and how I know."

Burt nodded and motioned toward his office.

"Coffee?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Differences (Previously Untitled)  
**Author:** telepathichawk  
**Rating:** PG  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Puck/Kurt (eventually), Will/Emma, Finn/Rachel, Burt/Carole, Ensemble  
**Genre:** Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Xover  
**Warnings:** Almost completely AU. Past attempted suicide.  
**Spoilers:** None.  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Glee. I make no profit from this.  
**Author Notes: **Wanted to give a HUGE shout out to my new beta ricarseinrp from LJ. This would suck so much without you and I know you're only going to make it better as we go! Thanks so much for working with me!Please leave a comment if you have a minute! Thanks, TH. **Summary:** "What if I told you, Burt, that I don't think your son is insane at all? What if I told you that I think he is very special?" Crossover with X-Men.  
**Word Count:** ~2,800

* * *

"So…how many students are at the school?" Burt's voice was low and calm.

"With the addition of Kurt, there will be ten full time students living at the school," The professor's voice was calm and confident. "Six young men and four young women. A number of my former students also live at the school to both teach and pursue their own interests."

"How many of those?" Burt asked.

"Ten or so at any given time. I can assure you, Burt, even when you leave us, Kurt will be in the best of hands."

"You brought my kid back to me, Prof. I'm not gonna doubt anything you say," Burt said, stroking Kurt's hair. He, the professor, and Ms. Munroe chuckled quietly and then the car fell silent.

Kurt wasn't actually sleeping and he knew that they knew it. He was grateful that they were just allowing him to be. He kept his breath steady, even as he took in all that was around him, feeling a simple contentment that he could finally breathe freely again. He took a deep breath and let a smile spread across his face. It felt a little unnatural, a little bit difficult to get his lips to turn up. It had been so long since he really, truly had a reason to smile. But, how could he not? His father smelled as he had always smelled, like a comforting mix of Old Spice aftershave and motor oil. He nuzzled into the denim encased leg a little more and let the calm, loving feeling of his father's mind wash over him. And wasn't that a revelation? The voices he heard in his head weren't just in his head. What the doctors had diagnosed as delusional, paranoid schizophrenia wasn't a mental illness at all. It was a mutation, the ability to hear what other people were thinking. The ability to feel their emotions, to read from them what had been, what had happened in their lives. He wasn't sure if it was better to be the mental patient or the freak. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly in a much more natural feeling frown.

Mutant. He had seen the news stories, of course. Everyone had. Mutants, people with extraordinary gifts, had just started coming to the forefront of the world's awareness when Kurt's mother had died. For so many years he and his father had been so wrapped up in their grief and in just trying to live day to day that it had never seemed all that important. There weren't any mutants in Lima, Ohio. At least no one knew of any. And even if there were they weren't going to reveal themselves any time soon. It was dangerous. So, he and his father were both unprepared when, three months after turning twelve, things began changing for Kurt. It started small. If his father came home in a bad mood, even if he tried to hide it behind smiles and cheerful words, Kurt knew it. When Jesse St. James came to school with bruises that he claimed were from falling down the stairs Kurt knew without knowing why that they were actually from his mother. Soon, though it had been more than moods he was picking up on. Soon the moods had become words. He heard what his seventh grade pre-algebra teacher actually thought when Milla Van Dean walked past his desk.

_Sweet little piece of ass. Bet she doesn't even have hair yet. Love to fuck that tight little…_

He'd run out of the room before he could hear any more. It was the same way at the football game his father had dragged him to see on one of their "father-son bonding nights". A man in jeans and a battered leather bomber jacket had taken one look at him and sneered. Their eyes had met and a rough voice he'd never heard in his life invaded his thoughts.

_Shame a man like that has a little faggot for a kid. If he were mine I'd beat the hell out of him, show him what a real man is like. And if he didn't learn…_

The last thought had been accompanied by an all too realistic image in his mind of the man holding him down, one hand wrapped around his thin throat and the other digging a sharp knife into his stomach. He'd felt the man's satisfaction and glee at the thought of taking his life. It was the first time he'd ever been confronted with something so very hateful. It overwhelmed him and he'd fallen to his knees, clutching his head and trying to scream out of the fear and hate that were warring for dominance in him. He'd screamed in horror until an ambulance had come and they'd taken him to the hospital to be sedated. Nothing had been able to get through to him. His father had been so scared the entire time, trying to calm him down, whispering that he loved him and that he was there. Kurt had told him, while he laid in the hospital bed with the drugs running through his system making him feel light and his tongue loose, that he was hearing things, things he wasn't sure were real. Burt had just held his hand tighter, whispering to him that everything would be okay, that they would find something to help him, and kissed his forehead as he fell into a drug induced sleep.

After the football game Burt had tried his very hardest to help him. He had taken him to countless doctors, all of whom had put him on medications that did nothing at all. He got him people to talk to. He pulled him out of school when being around so many other people just got too overwhelming for him. But nothing helped. Soon it wasn't just one or two voices, one or two thoughts at a time. Soon he hadn't been able to shut anything out at all. And the moods he used to just sense, he felt, even if they weren't his. He couldn't go to the garage anymore because even the thoughts of the five mechanics who had known him all of his life and had only ever loved him were just too much. The thoughts began to invade so deeply and so quickly, even when he was alone in the house, that he couldn't tell if they were his or not. The day he couldn't figure out if he had started a near fatal fire in a neighbor's house or not because the thought had come into his mind, he had taken one of the kitchen knives and slashed three deep gashes in both of his wrists, so afraid that one day he might actually hurt someone without meaning to because someone had put the thought into his head. His father had found him laying on his bathroom floor, his life leaking out of him, not quite unconscious, but unable to respond when Burt cried out his name and begged him to talk to him. Kurt had tried to focus on his worried, loving face as his dad pressed towels to his wrists and called for an ambulance on his cell phone. The thoughts invading his mind had made Kurt want to take it all back, to touch his dad's face and tell him that he was sorry and he loved him.

_Oh, God, no! No, not my Kurt! Not my boy! Oh, God! Baby, why didn't you tell me? Oh, God, please. Please don't take him. Stay with me, baby. Just stay with me._

Then, everything had gone dark. And it had stayed mostly dark for three years. There were occasional fleeting dreams, flashes of his father rocking him, singing to him brokenly and telling him he still loved him more than anything. Those were the good flashes. The bad flashes were when he opened his eyes to white and cold, where doctors with thoughts so inhuman and calculating that they left a metallic aftertaste in his mouth pushed his head under water filled with ice cubes and tied him down so that they could send lightning flying through his body.

Then, three days ago, what felt to Kurt like a miracle. Above all of the dark haze and the thick fog a voice penetrated his mind.

_Kurt? Kurt, can you hear me?_

_No…_He'd thought desperately, sure he was moaning on the floor of his room, hoping they would bring him his medication soon so that it would all just go away, _No, I can't._

_And why is that? _The voice had been gentle and slightly amused.

_Because you're not real. You can't be real. I'm a paranoid, delusional schizophrenic. All of the doctors agree. My mind is making you up._

_I can assure you, Kurt, I am quite real. And you are not a paranoid, delusional schizophrenic._

_No, I am_, Kurt had tried to argue, _I hear voices that aren't there. _

_You hear thoughts, Kurt. Not voices. You hear the thoughts of others. _And the voice had emphasized again, _You are not a paranoid, delusional schizophrenic and you do not belong here._

_I'm not? I don't?_ He'd been so shocked. _Then, what am I? Where do I belong?_

_What you are, young Mr. Hummel, is a mutant. A telepath like myself. If you're willing, Kurt, I would like to help you. I would like to take you away from here and to a place where you can feel safe and comfortable with mutants your own age._

He'd wanted so much to believe, but he'd still been so scared. _How can you help me?_

The reassurance and confidence that had spread through his mind had made him feel like things might be okay for the first time in a very long time. The next two days had been spent mostly in his mind, listening to Professor Xavier, learning to shield himself to keep those thoughts that weren't his own out of his head unless he wanted to hear them. It wasn't easy. They had started with the image of a bubble that surrounded his mind. The professor told him that he was to imagine that the thoughts of others that tried to come to him were stopped and repelled by the flexibility of the bubble. That image hadn't worked for Kurt. His bubble was too stiff and shattered every time the professor told Burt to think something at Kurt. Luckily all of the thoughts were of love and didn't hurt Kurt at all, but it wasn't what they were going for. Next, Professor Xavier had told him to picture a wall, brick and strong, between him and the thoughts of others. But, his wall was brittle and crumbled no matter how strong he tried to make it. Finally, the professor told him to try something more natural. Kurt had pictured tree branches, weaving and braiding together until they were a protective canopy. When Burt sent a thought at him after that all Kurt had gotten was an impression of a feeling instead of thought and the professor had declared him ready for travel. It still wasn't easy. It took all of his concentration every single moment not to let the thoughts of others overwhelm him, but he was learning more and more every day.

The professor assured him that he would learn more at the school. His school for mutants. Kurt had been so scared when he realized that he would be leaving his father again so soon when they had just gotten each other back. His father tried to assure him that he would rather know he was at school in New York and safe, learning to control the powers that had almost killed him, than anywhere else, even though he would miss him like hell. But Kurt had seen the tears and felt the sadness. Burt needed to know his son and see that he was whole and healing. On the other hand Kurt couldn't be without the professor just in case he lost control again and the professor needed to shield him. And the professor couldn't be away from the school for very long. There were other young mutants who needed him just as much as Kurt did. And as much as Kurt needed to be around the professor he also needed his father and, luckily, the professor recognized that. He told them, a day before they were to leave, that it would be more than acceptable for Burt to come to the school with Kurt. At least until the time both father and son felt secure enough with each other again and in the love they shared that it wouldn't be more than a normal hardship for Kurt to be away at school. Kurt curled a hand around Burt's knee and breathed in his scent again, allowing the small smile to curl his lips upwards. Through everything, even when he was in the hospital, he'd always known that his father loved him more than anything and as he laid on his lap now feeling that love, smooth, solid and deep red like velvet, brushing his mind it was only solidified. He sighed and nuzzled again even as Burt ran a hand through his hair.

_Kurt. _The professor's voice was soft in his mind.

"Yes, Professor?" Kurt whispered, his voice still weak and unused after so many years of silence.

_In your mind, Kurt. You are more than capable of it._

He was more than capable. He was also scared. But, knowing the professor was there made it easier to answer back: _Yes, sir?_

_You're projecting quite strongly. And while you are content and calm and your mental voice is not a burden to listen to, you need to try to exercise more control. Reapply your shields if you would. It will be good practice for you. It won't be long now._

_I'm sorry, Professor._ He felt his face flush with shame.

_No, Kurt. There is nothing to apologize for nor anything to be ashamed of. You're learning. And very quickly I might add. You're doing just fine._

Kurt sat up slowly and set his fingers to his temples. It was a grounding move that he didn't necessarily need to use to reinforce his shields, but it helped. The professor assured him that soon shielding would become second nature and he wouldn't even have to think to keep them up, much less use a physical movement to help him. The trees in his mind, loose and allowing the sun to peek through, began to knit together tightly once more and the vague thoughts he had been hearing became simple impressions again.

_Very well done, Kurt._

Kurt smiled at his dad in accomplishment and Burt ran a hand over his hair with a smile. He turned to the window and looked out at the trees. The leaves were an explosion of colors. Red, yellow, orange and every variation in between. It wasn't going to be a hardship to live in New York in the fall, Kurt could tell. He unrolled the window and took a deep breath of the air, made spicy and fascinating by the season. He let the wind blow his hair into his eyes and giggled quietly when he stuck his hand out the window and felt the air pushing it back. He rolled the window back up and sighed. He still felt so weak, so tired all the time. But, hadn't he been sleeping, or something very close to it, for years? He began to bite his bottom lip. What would the other students think when they learned that he'd spent that past three years in a mental hospital? How far behind the rest of them would he be in his schooling?

"Are you nervous, child?" Ms. Munroe asked from behind the wheel of the car. She was the most stunning woman he had ever seen with her bright blue eyes and her long white hair. He wasn't quite sure where her accent was from, he only knew that he thought it was beautiful and he liked it very much. He waited until her eyes met his in the mirror and nodded, knowing she would understand that his voice was still not up to par and that he wasn't trying to be rude by not answering aloud.

"Don't be," She smiled gently, "The other children are very much like you. You'll find yourself among friends, very much the same way I did."

He raised an eyebrow at her and she didn't even have to ask what he wanted to know. With a wave of her hand out of her open window a gentle rain began to fall. He unrolled his window again and let the rain fall on his fingertips. He turned back to her, his eyes wide and she laughed gently.

"We all have our gifts, Kurt Hummel. You will not be out of place at the school." Her voice was kind and understanding.

"I hope so," Kurt whispered, and smiled at his father when he reached over and took his hand again.

Kurt allowed his dad to take his shoulder and pull him slightly so that his head was in his lap again, "Sleep, Kurt," He said, his voice halfway between parentally worried and lovingly amused, "And really sleep this time. Everything is going to be fine now. Just fine."

Kurt closed his eyes and let himself do as his father said.


	3. Chapter 3

**All Previous Disclaimers Apply.**

**Author's Note: Sorry about the delay! Hope you enjoy the chapter. Betaed by the wonderful ricaresinrp from Live Journal. She saves me every time! Please leave a review if you have a moment!**

"Kurt? Kurtie? Come on, son, wake up a little bit. We're here."

"Hmm?" Kurt came awake slowly; reluctant to leave the deep sleep he'd managed to achieve with his dad running his comforting hand over his hair and brokenly humming a sweet tune Kurt almost remembered his mother singing to him when he was a little boy. It was one of the first times he'd been able to sleep in days. After his father and the professor had taken him out of the hospital he hadn't had a natural sleep for nearly a week. He had been unconscious more than once as his body went through the withdrawal that they had anticipated. After three years of being so heavily medicated that he wasn't even aware of what was happening around him his withdrawal had been violent and terrifying. The professor had kept him locked in his mind for most of it, thankfully. That was when he had taught him about grounding and shielding himself. He had been more exhausted coming out of the withdrawal than he had been going into it, but he still hadn't been able to sleep, terrified that he would wake up back in the hospital and realize that everything that had happened was a dream. He had napped on and off over the next couple of days, comforted by his father's mind always nearby and the professor's voice helping him learn to keep the thoughts from hurting, but he'd woken every half hour or so just to make sure that everything was the way he had left it. He hadn't been able to calm himself long enough to sleep until his father had told him to do so in the car and somehow his mind decided that it was alright. Somehow being on the way to Xavier's, far away from Lima and the hospital, he was finally able to relax. It felt so wonderful. He was warm and cozy and he didn't want the feeling to go away. The only mind he could feel was his father's and that was never a burden to listen to. Not now that he was out of the hospital and they knew exactly how to control what was wrong with him. No, not what was wrong with him. There was nothing wrong with him. Now that he was learning to control his gifts. He moaned a little and turned his face further into his father's old, worn jeans.

"I know you want to sleep, baby," His father kept stroking his hair as he became more aware of what was going on, "And you can a little bit later, but the prof want you to meet the other kids and the teachers before you settle into your room, okay?"

"Hmm…" Kurt opened his eyes and stared at the back of the seat until everything came into focus. The professor and Ms. Munroe had already left the car. He could feel their minds distantly when he reached out a little and further still there were more thoughts and feelings belonging to people he hadn't met yet. He checked his shields and sighed when the sun was bright in his mind through the trees. He closed his eyes for a moment until the trees had knit again, then opened again, staring at the grey upholstery and feeling his stomach turn. He hadn't been very nervous about coming to the school until that moment and he could feel his body tensing as he thought about getting out of the car.

"Dad…" He whispered.

"I know, Kurt." Not for the first time in the last couple of days Kurt wondered if his father actually had a little bit of telepathic ability himself, "But, this is going to be a good thing, son. This is the best place for you."

"What if they don't like me?" Kurt felt like a child, asking something like that, but Burt just chuckled and helped Kurt sit up before putting a finger under his chin and lifting so that their eyes, so similar in coloring, met.

"Kid, what's not to like? And they know what you're going through. This is probably one of the only places in the world where the mutant thing is just something else that makes you all alike." He grinned when Kurt attempted a shaky smile.

"And the gay thing?" He asked quietly after a moment, his tremulous smile falling. He and his dad had never really had the opportunity to talk about his sexuality, but even when he hadn't been able to read minds he'd known that his dad knew. He had to know. It wasn't something Kurt could hide. It wasn't something he wanted to hide.

He was surprised and delighted when his dad didn't even miss a beat, "They're mutants, Kurt. I'm pretty sure they're not going to judge you for that. I'd like to think that they wouldn't judge anyone for that…or anything else. And if they do, we'll tell the professor that you'll stay long enough to learn how to control your powers and then we'll take off. It'll be just you and me… like the old times. You just let me know, Kurt. I just got you back. We're going to do whatever makes you happiest."

Kurt leaned forward and let his dad wrap him in a tight hug, "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, kid. We getting out of the car anytime soon? Professor Xavier and Miz Munroe are waiting."

Kurt took another deep breath of his dad's scent and then nodded.

"Okay."

They got out of the car and Kurt wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the autumn chill as he looked up at the place that he was going to be calling home for the next three years, at least. The old mansion was bigger than any house he had ever seen outside of the movies and was mostly brick with white accents. He appreciated the tall columns and the many balconies. The shutters were a charming touch and the bell tower made it seem more like a school. It was a beautiful old building, stately and welcoming. The lights were just coming on inside as the sun set behind him. He turned around to look at the cast iron gate that had been left open, that was almost always left open, something told him, so as not to shut anyone out or make anyone feel trapped. He wondered how extensive the grounds were and when he would be allowed to explore them.

"Kurt, child," Ms. Munroe called to him quietly, bringing him gently out of his thoughts and back to them. He had a feeling that she was good at that. "Come inside and meet the others."

Kurt turned around and began walking toward the professor, Ms. Munroe, and his father, who were all waiting on the large porch. He stopped in his tracks and nearly fell back a step when, with no other warning than a puff of sulfur scented smoke, a man appeared next to Ms. Munroe. He took a sharp breath as he looked over the new addition. The man was covered from head to toe in what looked like a downy fur that was navy in color. He was dressed casually in jeans and a maroon sweater but had no shoes on his three toed feet, only two toes of which were actually supporting him on the ground. Like a bird of prey, Kurt thought. His hands were the same, three pronged and also covered in fine fur. A forked tail whipped around behind him and his bright yellow, pupil-less eyes were only for Ms. Munroe. She smiled at him brightly, lighting her face and eyes, before she leaned in a kissed him gently. Kurt's eyes went wide when they both pulled back, smiling, and he caught a flash of what looked like fang in the man's mouth.

"Ororo, schatzi, introduce me to our new student." Somehow Kurt wasn't surprised to hear the German accent. It fit.

"Kurt Hummel," Ms. Munroe turned back to him and held out her free hand. Her other hand was enclosed in the strange looking man's, "This is my husband, Kurt Wagner, also called Nightcrawler. And this is Kurt's father, my love. He'll be staying with us for a time until Kurt feels more secure."

"Burt Hummel. Pleased to meet you." Kurt was impressed with his father when he simply smiled and held out his hand to the strange looking man.

"I know my appearance is disarming," Mr. Wagner said genially as they shook, "Unlike most mutants I was born this way. I have an image inducer that gives me the appearance of a normal human, but I prefer not to wear it here at home."

"Every man should feel comfortable in his own home," Burt agreed, then turned back to Kurt, "Kurt, you mind your manners and come introduce yourself to Mr. Wagner."

Kurt moved automatically at the tone of his father's voice and held his hand out. He nearly smiled at how soft the fur on Mr. Wagener's hand was.

"I…" He looked up and realized that Mr. Wagner's grin wasn't nearly as scary as he'd thought. It was welcoming and warm and his mind was just the same, "I didn't mean to be rude. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It won't be the first time you're given pause over someone here. This is your home as well as ours now, Kurt. Always feel comfortable enough to speak your mind. God knows the other children do and will."

As if on cue Kurt heard the pounding of feet on a wooden floor and wild laughter just as five figures tore around a corner, followed by a sixth, very large, figure. His eyes were wide and his throat was dry as he turned to Ms. Munroe, but she was smiling softly, shaking her head as if this were an everyday occurrence. The sixth figure peeled off from the running group to join them on the porch. Kurt wondered just how many shocks he would have to deal with coming to live at this school. Of course he'd known that many mutations were physical and that was why some mutants couldn't stay hidden, but more people were worried about the telepaths, and the pyrokinetics, and the shapeshifters. Most of them looked just like everyone else and that scared normal humans more than anything.

The man in front of him looked like he was made out of metal strips that covered him from head to toe, save for his hair. His clothes were stretched thin by large muscles and well-worn. His feet were also bare, but it was no wonder. Kurt didn't think that they'd make shoes that big. He held his ground, nervous but not overly worried, as the figure came closer. His grin and bright eyes gave him away. He was younger than Kurt had thought, probably no older than sixteen or so, and taller than anyone Kurt had ever met. He had to be at least seven feet. Kurt held out his hand as the boy approached, not wanting to be impolite, and gasped when the boy batted his hand aside lightly and leaned down to give him a bear hug. He was so enthusiastic in his embrace that he pulled Kurt off of his feet. Kurt turned to look at his dad, begging him with his eyes to do something, but his dad was just grinning. Kurt huffed.

_Traitor, _he thought at his father. He knew his dad had heard when he simply shrugged and laughed.

"This him?" The voice was younger and higher than Kurt had been expecting, though not as high as his own, of course, "This our new kid?"

"Yes, Finnegan, this is our new student," The professor's voice was kind but firm, "Kurt is a telepath and he is just learning to control his powers. As such it is more difficult for him when he is in physical contact with another. I'm sure he would appreciate it if you would put him down now."

"Huh?" The boy asked, then seemed to process what had been said to him. He began to mumble, "Oh, yeah…Of course." Kurt was sure that if he could blush he would be bright red as he put Kurt back on his feet carefully and smiled in a self deprecating way before he held out his hand and looked at the professor for approval. The professor gave a slight nod and when the boy turned back to Kurt his smile was wide and real.

"I'm Finn. Welcome to Xavier's."

Kurt's eyes darted to his father and when he saw the encouraging smile on his face he took a deep breath, checked and strengthened his shields one more time, and put his hand into Finn's large one. He was surprised at how gentle Finn's grip was. He smiled when he felt how genuinely open and welcoming Finn's mind was. It was a breath of fresh air to know that with some people what you saw was really what you got.

"I'm Kurt," He tried to speak up, but his voice cracked. He set a hand to his throat and went back to the whisper he had been affecting for the past week, "This is my dad Burt."

"Cool. Nice to meet you, Kurt, Mr. Burt." He smiled at Burt before looking back down at Kurt, "My mom stayed with me for a while too when I first moved in. Mr. LeBeau said you were coming from Ohio. Where in Ohio? I'm from Columbus and…"

"Finn, child," Ms. Munroe's interrupted him with a raised eyebrow, "Do not overwhelm the poor boy."

Once again Kurt had to wonder if everyone at the mansion was telepathic. Because he really was overwhelmed when the other five who had been running from Finn came back as fast as they had passed. And they seemed to have multiplied. Now there were at least five more with them, including a boy in a wheelchair and four more adults. He backed away a step and was comforted when he felt his father at his back, setting his large hand on his shoulder. He took a breath, taking in his father's calm, and tried to put an interested, yet collected, look on his face.

"Where are Matthew, Jean and the Schuesters?" The professor asked. Kurt looked at him just as a tall man with sunglasses on stepped forward and put a hand on the professor's wheelchair. Kurt got a flash of realization that this man was very controlled, a little controlling, and thought of the professor as his father and tightened the trees once more so that there was no sunlight peeking though. He wasn't sure that it would ever be second nature to have his shields up like the professor said it would be.

"Matt had another severe attack. He ended up breaking the mirror to try to fight something off. His hands were pretty torn up," the man said quietly. Ms. Munroe and the professor both sighed in such a way that Kurt knew right away that they loved Matt, whoever he was, very much and were very worried for him, "Jean, Emma, and Will are with him, trying to calm him down and clean him up."

"Charles, there must be a way…" Ms. Munroe murmured quietly, moving so that she could set a hand to his shoulder. The professor covered her hand with his own.

"We'll find one, Ororo," The professor assured her, his voice low. It was strong and his eyes smiling again when he turned his attention back to Kurt, "Kurt, Burt, I would like you to meet the other staff here at the school. This is Scott Summers, also known at Cyclops. Scott is able to produce concussive blasts with strong destructive force from his eyes."

"I can't shut it off, but the ruby my glasses are made of manages to control and disperse it," Scott tapped his sunglasses and smiled at them a little tightly, "Welcome to the Xavier school, Kurt."

"This is Logan." The professor motioned to a wild looking man who was currently cutting pieces out of an apple with a metal claw that extended a good foot at least from between his fingers. Kurt didn't have to ask and wasn't sure he wanted to. "He will be overseeing your physical training." Logan nodded at him.

"And these last two are Rogue…" The pretty woman with the streak of white at the front of her wildly curling red hair smiled at him.

"Hi," She offered with a small wave. Kurt couldn't help but smile back to hear the southern lilt to her voice. A dangerous looking man stepped up behind her and set a hand on her hip. Kurt tilted his head to the side. After his outburst with Mr. Wagner he wasn't willing to make a fool of himself again, but the man's strange eyes, completely black with red irises, were as startling to him as Mr. Wagner's entire appearance. He looked dangerous in the same way that Mr. Logan looked wild.

"Remy LeBeau," He smiled and it was a little wicked, a little sinful. Kurt felt his knees go a little weak.

"There are three other faculty members. You'll meet them soon, I'm sure," Kurt pulled his attention away from the fascinating eyes and the long auburn hair pulled back in a tail and looked back at the professor, "Jean Grey is another telepath and will be working with you on your control as much as I will, Kurt. William Schuester is actually the newest member of the faculty. He came to the school just a few years ago when his powers were discovered. He was teaching in a public high school at the time and he and his wife were forced to flee for their lives when the town reacted adversely. His wife, Emma, is our nurse and sees to the health of the children as well as the staff. I'll let the other children introduce themselves as they show you to your room. They've been preparing for you."

"Yeah!" Finn nearly shouted, making the others giggle and the boy in the wheelchair snort. He glared at them with no heat, and then turned back to Kurt.

"Go on," His dad encouraged him with a gentle hand to the small of his back, "I'll be right down here."

"I'll show you your room," Rogue smiled and came forward to wind her arm around Burt's. Kurt was surprised to see a slight blush rise to his father's cheeks. He had been so worried for Kurt for so long, only thoughts of how to help his son dominating his mind, that Kurt had almost forgotten that his dad might actually be attracted to someone. Obviously Rogue was with pretty hair, dangerous eyes, but she was beautiful and her southern hospitality made her an easy crush for his father. It was kind of sweet to see.

"Okay," Kurt murmured, then hugged his dad quickly, "See you soon."

He turned back and was glad to see that no one was judging him for being a little needy, a little clingy. They understood, he realized with a start. He checked his shields one more time, took a deep breath, and moved toward them.

"Awesome," Finn grinned and was about to turn when Mr. Logan called out to him.

"Kid, you ain't in the danger room and you definitely ain't practicing anything. Power it down before you stumble and take out another wall."

"Oh…" Finn looked down at himself as if he hadn't realized just how he looked. Kurt couldn't help the gasp when Finn closed his eyes in concentration and the metal that covered his body seemed to melt back into it. He lost at least six inches and much of his bulk. He was attractive, Kurt noticed in a far away part of his mind, in that All-American boy-next-door kind of way. If you were into that sort of thing. He didn't mind when Finn threw an arm around his shoulder and began to lead him away.

"He'll be fine," Rogue assured Burt as they all watched the children lead Kurt away, chattering animatedly.

"Yeah," Burt smiled and nodded, "I think he will."

"Your room is right in between mine and Artie's," Finn said as they walked down a hall after getting off the elevator big enough for all nine of them, even with a wheelchair, "We painted it so that it wasn't just white, but we couldn't do much else because we didn't really know what you're into."

"I don't really know what I'm into," Kurt murmured.

"We'll change that real quick, baby." He was pulled away from under Finn's arm as a beautiful dark girl with a mind that left the taste of bright sunshine in his mouth put her arm though his and hugged it a little, "First thing after you feel like you can handle big crowds you, me, Tina, and Quinny here are going to be going to the mall. We'll spend all day, get facials and pedicures, and check out guys."

"Mercedes!" A small girl with a very loud voice, pushed forward and turned around, effectively stopping them all and halting their progress. Kurt got a flash of pink as bright as the plaid skirt she was wearing in his mind and felt guilt overwhelm him when he had to push back the urge to gag just a little. "If there's one thing that my two gay dads have taught me it's that you can't just assume that someone is gay based solely on their appearance or mannerisms! It's not fair and, frankly, it's offensive! What if Kurt is just a little effeminate?"

Mercedes, as her name seemed to be, rolled her eyes and looked at Kurt, "Boo, are you gay?"

She was so open, so very fabulous, exactly the type of person he had always dreamed of being friends with. It was so easy to just smile and answer, "Yes."

Mercedes turned back to the small girl with big voice and bigger attitude. She didn't say anything, but the expression on her face and her raised eyebrow were enough to get her point across. The smaller girl huffed and stomped a foot, looking like she was about to screech, before Finn stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

"Calm down, sweetie," he said soothingly. The look in his eyes said that he adored her and thought that she could do no wrong. Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "You know you have a hard time with control when you get upset and if we keep breaking things Mr. Logan said he'd make us sleep in tents on the grounds."

"The drama queen over there is Rachel," Mercedes said. It was as good a time as any for introductions, Kurt figured. It would be easier once he could put names with all of the faces and Kurt was glad that she recognized the fact, "Appropriately enough, she screeches."

"I produce sonic waves of concussive and destructive force with my voice," Rachel said testily, "They call me Syren."

"She calls herself Syren," A cool voice said and a beautiful girl with dark blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and a perfect figure stepped forward, "Most of us just call her annoying. I'm Quinny, by the way. Quinn. I can shift my molecules enough to be able to walk through anything. Logan calls me Ghost, but I think I like Spirit better. This is my boyfriend Sam. He's a speedster."

"My best clocking is nearly six hundred miles an hour," A boy with a wide smile and hair just a shade lighter than Quinn's stepped forward and shook Kurt's hand, "Artie built the radar so that we could test it. I'm still trying to come up with a codename, but most of the good ones for speedsters are taken. So…" He shrugged amiably and Kurt knew that they would be able to be friends.

"I'm Artie," the boy in the wheelchair pushed himself forward through the crowd of kids and held out his hand, "We're going to be sharing a bathroom. I'm a technopath. Means that anything electronic, anything mechanical…I understand it. No matter what. I can fix it, I can make it move. I can communicate with computers like I can communicate with people. Anything ever breaks, you just let me know. I'll get it fixed up for you in a jiff."

"Thanks," Kurt smiled and wondered when he would feel secure enough at the school to stage a fashion intervention for Artie. He may have been out of the loop for the last three and a half years, but he was fairly certain that it was still a crime against fashion to be wearing both suspenders and a belt at the same time.

"They call me Wheels. I kind of like it. It has a couple of levels. On one level I'm in this chair, but on another the wheels are always turning in my mind, you know? So, it's kind of cool."

"I…" Kurt stopped, then took a breath when Mercedes squeezed his arm, encouraging him to speak his mind, and Quinn smiled at him, nodding, "I don't understand the whole codename…thing."

"Well, we…" Finn started.

"Guys, that's probably something that the professor should explain to Kurt, don't you think?" Kurt turned to the new voice and his lips curled slightly to see a very attractive Asian boy looking back at him, the same welcoming air about him that was about the others, "He'll probably sit you and your dad down and explain it all in the next day or so. He did for all of us. And you'll have to make the choice for yourself. It's not fair if we try to influence you before you have a chance to think about it. I'm Mike, by the way. Mike Chang. I can create enough static electricity that it sparks. Can start stuff on fire or hurt like hell, depending on how much force I put behind it. They…" He jerked his thumb at Finn, Artie and Sam, "wanted to call me Sparkles. I prefer Firework."

"This is your room, Kurt." Rachel nearly bounced as they reached their destination.

Kurt hadn't even realized that they'd begun to walk again. Just being around others who spoke of their powers like it was common place, those for whom his sexuality meant nothing really, was like a breath of fresh air. They all fascinated him. He was looking forward to getting to know them. His dad was right. This was where he should be. The smiles were coming more naturally now, he noticed. In fact, he couldn't seem to stop smiling. Mercedes and Quinn were on his arms and Finn opened the door in front of them.

Kurt gasped and stepped away from the rest of them to walk into the room. It seemed like it was larger than the entire apartment that he and his dad shared after the bills from his doctors and medicines forced them to give up the house. The bed was a king size and hardly seemed to make a dent in the space. There was a large dresser and wardrobe against one wall, and a computer desk and vanity against another. A third wall was dominated by a pair of French doors that opened up onto a large balcony.

"When told us that you were a telepath we kind of figured that you'd want one of the balcony rooms so that you could get away and get yourself focused and re-centered if you need to. Even Ms. Grey and the professor have to do it sometimes still." Mercedes' voice was gentle, "It doesn't have much personality now, but it will once you live in it a little while."

"It's wonderful, but it could use some color," Kurt agreed. They had painted the walls a soothing blue. It was a little monochromatic for his tastes and he wondered when he would feel comfortable enough to ask to paint at least one of the walls an accenting, darker color. He tilted his head when a dark shadow against the setting sun that he'd thought was a bird began to come closer and he realized that it was much too large to be a bird.

"It's Tina," Artie wheeled forward and the smile on his face told Kurt that he and Tina were romantically involved. He wondered if he was attending a school or a matchmaking club. Then again, they were all mutants. It was probably easy to fall for someone who knew what you were and didn't think any less of you for it.

He looked back to the window just as Tina touched down. He drew in his breath and held it. The girl in front of him was stunning. She wore a heavy black dress and dark make-up. Somehow, the look worked for her. It seemed to enhance her beauty, not cover it like it did to so many others who wore a gothic style. Her boots, laced up over her knees, were fabulous and her long, bright blue streaked black hair fell in straight waves down her back. But, it was her wings that were her most stunning feature. They were like an angel's, arched to just over her head and feathered. But, unlike all of the pictures of angels that he had seen, they were not white. Instead they were a pitch black so dark it was almost purple with silver tips. She smiled at him and walked into the room.

"Tina Wagner-Munroe. Dark Angel," She smiled and held out her hand. Kurt took her hand and wondered just how someone so stunning could think so little of herself. He could tell, just by holding her hand, that her confidence was not nearly what it should be. He tightened his shields again, but he was still feeling it. He would have to talk to the professor about it later. Maybe he was doing something wrong. The urge was overwhelming to help Tina realize just how everyone else had to see her, or at least how Kurt saw her, but he didn't think that she would appreciate it yet. Maybe when they were better friends. When she took her hand back she reached forward with the other one and handed him a small rose bush cutting with a burlap bag around the roots.

"We figured you might want some color because the room's a little plain, but you got here sooner than we thought so we didn't have time to put it in a big pot and have Mercedes help it along yet."

"Help it along?" Kurt asked. He fought down a yawn as he turned to Mercedes. He blinked when his vision blurred momentarily. The professor had told him that it was going to be tiring for a while to keep his shields up, but he hadn't expected it to take this much of a toll on him. He'd been checking and rechecking so that he didn't leak anything to the others or glean too much from them and he was just now coming to realize how exhausted he was.

"Yeah," Mercedes smiled, "It's what I do. Plants and things are my forte. I can even make them grow up the wall and stay healthy indoors if you want."

"That sounds…" He swayed a little and was glad when Mercedes and Mike reached out to steady him, "That sounds beautiful."

"Alright, children," Ms. Munroe was standing in the doorway and Kurt wondered how long she had been following them, "Kurt has had a very long day and he's exhausted. He won't be going anywhere. You'll see him in the morning. Sam, please get Kurt's bags from the car for me."

"You got it."

Kurt registered only a breeze before Sam was back at Quinn's side and his bags were piled at the edge of his bed.

"Now, the rest of you say goodnight and go down to dinner."

Kurt felt the tears come into his eyes when every single one of the girls hugged him and the boys clapped him on the shoulder. Save for Finn. He hugged Kurt tight.

"Welcome home," He whispered.

"The bathroom is just through there," Ms. Munroe pointed to a door he hadn't even noticed in between his dresser and wardrobe, "Get ready for bed. I'll send your father up to you to say goodnight. If you should wake hungry in the middle of the night don't hesitate to make your way to the kitchen. It's well stocked. It's just off of the main entrance on the first floor where we came into the mansion. If you need anything at all, please feel comfortable projecting to any one of the teachers. Sleep well, child."

The tears finally did fall as she leaned forward and pressed a motherly kiss to his forehead. He threw his arms around her and was glad when all she did was hug him close and allow him to sob on her shoulder.

"Home," he whispered twenty minutes later as he was falling asleep on cool clean sheets while his father stroked his hair and the sun slipped below the horizon. He could hear the sounds of happy people gathered around a dinner table faintly from the dining room, a floor down, and felt comfortable in a way he hadn't felt since he heard the first voice in his head years ago.

"Yeah," Burt agreed, "Home."

Kurt sighed and let himself fall asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**All previous disclaimers apply.**

For the first time in what felt like an eternity Kurt woke naturally. He didn't come to a half awareness after spending the night somewhere between delirium and doze, just before the orderly came in and pulled his loose pants down on his hip to jab the syringe into his flesh. He wasn't shaken awake by his father, gently tipping his head back to pour a little bit of water down his throat or telling him that they had something to do. He wasn't even brought to awareness in his unconscious mind by the professor, telling him firmly and kindly to once again reapply his shields. For the first time in years he'd slept as long as he wanted and he came awake naturally. He laid in the bed for a long time, his eyes closed and his mind open, just breathing and taking in all that was around him.

Sometime in the early morning someone had come into the room and opened his French doors. The breeze had just enough bite to warrant the extra blanket that had been placed around his shoulders at the same time, but he appreciated being able to smell the air and hear the birds. It had to have been his father who came in and opened the doors. He was the only one close enough to Kurt to know how much he would love being able to wake up to fresh air and birdsong. He smiled as he reached out with his mind to find his father. He was on the porch with the professor, both of them silent as they had coffee and read the newspaper. His father was reading the sports page and the professor was reading the international pages. He wondered if they knew just how alike they actually were. Their minds were so similar, calm and controlled, affectionate and certain. The more he was awake and able to use his powers the more he realized that people were just people. It didn't matter that the professor had three doctorates and his father had never done more than attend a few classes at a community college, or that the professor was a mutant and his father was human. Their similarities far outweighed their differences. He assumed that as he learned to control more and was able to see people for who they were he would find the same thing. If everyone could do what he could do…

That was much too heavy a thought for his first morning in his new home. And he was finally going to be allowed to be a normal teenager like everyone else. He didn't want to ruin it for himself by letting his thoughts on the state of the world depress him. He chuckled at his own thought and reached out a little further, careful to only scan what was around him, not to take actual thoughts. Ms. Munroe and Mr. Wagner were in the gardens. Ms. Munroe was weeding and Mr. Wagner was reading out loud to her from "A Tale of Two Cities" as he rested in the tree just over her garden patch. Mr. Logan was in a gym somewhere on a sub-basement level of the mansion. And wasn't that interesting? A sub-basement? He would have to ask the professor about that. Mr. LeBeau was in the garage working on a car. He couldn't sense Ms. Rogue in the mansion and didn't want to try to find her elsewhere. He knew instinctively that he would be able to find her, but that he would have to drop his shields to do so and that wasn't something he was willing to do. Mr. Summers was arguing with a woman whose mind he didn't know and there were two other adults in a room just down the hall with another boy who was sleeping. They were worried.

It took him a minute to realize that the soft sound of sympathy he heard was coming from him. He wanted to know why they were sad. He wanted to know why another teenager was at the mansion when the others were attending the local high school. But, he also refused to pry, especially because he could. He sat up, feeling refreshed and content, cozy, and took his time as he stretched and looked at the clock. Nearly ten o'clock in the morning and he'd gone to bed before seven. He smiled, half happy and half embarrassed that he'd slept so long. He felt...good. The realization made him giggle. He took his time in the bathroom, letting the warm water of his shower pour over him. He figured that Artie wouldn't mind if he used his bathing things, at least until he got his own. He wondered if he'd be allowed to go into town to get some things later as he brushed his teeth with the brush that had been left on the counter, still in the wrapper and despaired over being able to do anything with his hair. He needed it cut. Shoulder length…he totally couldn't rock that. He took great joy in choosing which jeans and which t-shirt and button down he would wear and left his feet bare as he followed the comforting thoughts down the stairs and outside.

Both his father and the professor smiled at him as he peeked around the corner at them and his dad waved him over. They sat in companionable silence as the professor handed him a plate and his dad put a bunch of grapes and two pancakes on it before handing over the jam. Kurt couldn't help the grin that spread across his face when his dad didn't even reach for the syrup. He remembered. He wasn't even thrown for a moment, understanding, when Kurt threw his arms around him and simply held on for a good long while. When he pulled back they both pretended not to notice the tears in each other's eyes as Kurt went about eating his breakfast and Burt went back to his paper. They both knew he didn't actually read it again, but instead watched Kurt out of the corner of his eye, and chose not to mention it.

"Coffee, Kurt?" The professor asked after a few minutes, "Or tea?"

"Tea, please," Kurt said quietly. He was glad to realize that he didn't have to whisper anymore. He still couldn't raise his voice, but at least he could speak on it.

"Milk and sugar?"

"Just a little milk," Burt answered for him and the father and son grinned at each other again.

"There are many things we need to discuss, Burt, Kurt," The professor said seriously as he handed over the cup, "You've both met the faculty here at the school. Kurt, those you haven't met will introduce themselves after we finish here. I've already told you that the other students attend their academic classes at the local high school and I believe, Kurt, that you have indicated that when you feel you have enough control that you would like to do the same."

"I really would," Kurt agreed, warming his hands on his tea cup.

"Then it shall be so." The professor smiled at him warmly, "What I am going to tell you now I couldn't tell you before you decided to come to us. The faculty of this school are here to help you to learn to control your powers, but that is only part of their purpose."

The professor took a breath and a sip of his coffee before he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment.

"There are individuals in the world who believe that a war is coming between mutants and mankind."

"Magneto," Burt said quietly, his eyes and thoughts darkening in the slightest. Kurt had heard of Magneto. Even when he had been very young, both before and after his mother's death, there had been near weekly news reports of the dangerously powerful Magneto, self proclaimed master of magnetism. People were scared of him, the government was constantly trying to hunt him down. Kurt hadn't seen him, even on the television, since before the hospital but he could feel a kind of dread tighten his chest just at the thought of him.

"Yes," the professor opened his eyes and smiled reassuringly at Kurt. The dread eased in the slightest, but didn't go away completely, "He calls himself that now. He was still Erik Lenscher when I first knew him. We built this school together, intending it to be a place for mutants to come to learn to control their powers before they reintegrated back into normal society. That was before mutants came to the forefront of the world's attention, back when we thought that we might remain a secret forever. Back before we knew just how many of us there are. We were naïve.

"Mutants, of course, could not be kept a secret for long and as we watched children, our children, persecuted, rejected by their families and by the world, Erik became bitter and angry. He believes that humanity will never accept us. He left the school and he has gained followers, many of them just as bitter and angry as himself."

"The Brotherhood of Mutants," Kurt surprised himself with his interruption. Somehow he knew what The Brotherhood was, but he didn't know how.

_Kurt, check your shields, _The Professor's eyes were kind, _You're gleaning without meaning to._

_My shields are up, Professor._ Kurt's eyes went wide and he felt his breath begin to come in short gasps. How could he be gleaning with his shields up?

_It's alright, Kurt,_ Xavier smiled at him, but the voice in his mind was firm, _Don't allow yourself to panic. Apply another canopy to your shields. Your accidental gleaning simply means that you're more powerful and further developed than I had anticipated and that we'll have to train you accordingly._

"Breathe, buddy," His father's hand was on his knee as he came down from his near panic attack, "No one's mad at you. You're just learning. You're doing great."

Kurt made a concentrated effort to breathe in time with his father's calm, steady breaths. He smiled at his dad at the same moment a grin spread across Burt's face when he had applied the new layer to his shields and was finally breathing normally again. His dad patted his knee and they turned back to Xavier.

"If I wasn't so certain that you were completely human, Burt, I would ask if you were a telepath as well." The professor was looking at them, slight amusement in the way his eyebrows were arched.

Burt chuckled even as he reached a hand out to run it over Kurt's hair without having to look, "Naw, Prof, I just love my kid. I can read him like a book."

"If only there were more like you in the world," The professor turned his gaze to Kurt, "Do you feel your shields are strong enough now, Kurt? Are you ready to continue?"

The nausea that had come with the realization that he wasn't completely in control of himself was beginning to fade. His hands weren't shaking anymore. He checked to make sure that every thought and feeling in his head was his own before he reached out for his tea cup and nodded. The last of the bad feelings went away with the warm tea that slid down his throat and he smiled into his cup as he listened to the professor continue.

"Erik does indeed call his followers The Brotherhood of Mutants. The Brotherhood is… doing everything they can to help that war they believe is coming along as quickly as possible. They hope that there are enough mutants who will join the cause once the war has begun that humanity will be overthrown easily. If the atmosphere of the world stays as it is they may be right.

"There are others of us, myself included, who still believe that peace and acceptance are possible; that some day every being on the planet will realize that mutants and humans are not so very different. But, until that day comes, humanity and mutants alike need to be protected by the extremists on both sides. This is what I have always believed and what I have always taught my students. Many of my students have taken this belief to heart.

"It was never my intention to train a fighting force here at this school, but it has become necessary to protect both my students and the innocents who would be harmed by Erik's fanaticism. My first class began calling this fighting force the X-Men." He smiled indulgently and took another sip of his coffee, "Many of my X-Men stay to fight for a time and then go out into the world where they will do the most good. Some have even come to some very prestigious positions."

"Like who?" Kurt asked, curious.

"Henry McCoy was once one of my students," The professor leaned forward to pour himself another cup of coffee, "His room was right above us actually. He always had the biggest balcony because he often needed the most space to move. He was a very active, energetic teenager."

"Wait," Burt held up his hand, "Henry McCoy? You mean the president's advisor on mutant affairs?"

The professor nodded at Burt and then looked at Kurt pointedly. Kurt marveled at the difference when he realized that all of the information suddenly filling his head the professor was giving to him. The difference between what he gleaned without permission and what was given to him was phenomenal. Not only did he now know who Henry McCoy was, but he could picture him clearly. His coarse royal blue fur didn't seem unusual at all. His eyes were intelligent and kind. Kurt felt a rush of a nearly parental affection for the man he had never met and felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. It felt too much like not knowing if he had set the fire or not. The professor seemed to realize that Kurt was becoming a little bit uncomfortable because the flow of information into his mind stopped immediately.

"My X-Men are whatever they have to be to help further the cause of acceptance and peace," The professor's voice was low and gentle when he began speaking again, "They are diplomats like Hank, working in the public's eye. They are teachers of young mutants all over the world who can't make it to New York. Kate and Lance Alvers have started a school very much like this one in London and Clarice Ferguson and Sam Guthrie have done the same in Tokyo. And they are warriors. They fight The Brotherhood back and protect the innocent, both human and mutant alike. And sometimes, for all their efforts at protecting those weaker than themselves, my X-Men have paid the ultimate price. If you'll follow me."

Burt reached out to take Kurt's hand as they stood and Kurt let him. He needed the contact just as much as his dad did as they followed the professor down a sunny hallway and into a small room just off of the entry way. The professor's office, Kurt realized. He'd expected it to be larger, grander. The desk was large and ornate and took up most of the room. Books lined two of the four walls and were stacked high on the desk and placed randomly on chairs and the bay window seat. It was comfortable, Kurt realized. It put him at ease right away and made him feel just a little sad. They stopped in front of the wall next to the window and looked up at the pictures Professor Xavier motioned to.

"Jubilation Lee, Jubilee, my wild girl," He pointed out a pretty woman with long black hair and a bright yellow jacket. Her finger was pointed like a gun at the camera and she was winking. "She was killed by one of Magneto's followers when she was discovered to be an FBI agent working to find a way to bring The Brotherhood down from within."

He pointed out another picture, "Amara Aquilla, Magma. She sacrificed herself to hold together a building while the others escaped. She was seventeen years old. Her mother would not allow any of us to attend her funeral. This picture was taken two days before she died." The young girl grinning at the camera was so happy, so full of life. It brought tears to Kurt's eyes. He looked at his father and wasn't ashamed to let his tears fall when he saw the tracks down his father's face.

"Jean-Paul Beaubier, Northstar, and Bobby Drake, Iceman." Kurt's eyes went wide when the professor pointed out a very cozy picture of two men sitting in front of the big fireplace Kurt had noticed in the formal sitting room just off of the large front doors. One man, a baby faced blond, was seated on the back of a couch, his arms wrapped around and his chin resting on the head of an Elvin looking man with white hair and pointed ears. They were both in jeans and t-shirts and looked more comfortable than any two men Kurt had ever seen. The professor smiled at him softly when he looked at him with the question in his eyes, "Yes, Kurt, Jean-Paul and Bobby were in a relationship. This was their engagement photo. They were married at the mansion a little over six months later. Jean-Paul was executed publicly by the Friends of Humanity after he prevented them from doing the same to another mutant. We lost Bobby two weeks later."

"I remember the execution," Burt said quietly, "Magneto used it."

The professor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Yes. Erik used Jean-Paul. His death was almost the catalyst for Erik's war."

"What stopped it?" Burt asked.

"I begged him not to use one of my children for hate." It was said in such a way that Kurt and Burt knew the subject was too painful for the professor to continue with, so they didn't press. They sat down when Professor motioned for them to do so and Kurt looked over at the wall again. There were pictures other than the ones that the professor had pointed out and he knew that he would learn about them just as surely as he had the others as the mansion became his home.

"I don't say any of these things to scare you, Kurt. I want you to be informed before you make any decisions."

"What are you asking him to decide, Prof?" Burt asked.

"I am asking Kurt to decide whether he wants to be an X-Man or not," Professor Xavier leaned forward and linked his hands under his chin, "Of course it's a decision that two as close as you must make together."

"What exactly does being an X-Man entail?" Burt leaned forward, his hands on his knees, his shoulders up, a defensive pose. Kurt wrung his hands, wanting to tell his dad to relax. But how could he when he couldn't even do so himself? His breath hitched when as the professor began to speak again.

"Kurt, if you were to choose to be an X-Man you would begin training in combat and tactics immediately. Logan would train you to protect yourself physically and Jean and myself would include lessons in how to use your powers offensively and defensively in a combat situation. I try not to send my teenaged students into dangerous situations but sometimes it can't be helped. Erik uses teenagers in his Brotherhood and teenaged X-Men are sometimes able to talk them down whereas adults tend to anger them and make them defensive. You would choose a codename and your fighting skills would have to be approved by Logan before you would be allowed on any mission with the others, of course. After your time here at the school is done you would have to make another choice whether to stay on with the X-Men here at the school to complete more difficult and dangerous missions, to join the staff at any of the other schools started by my X-Men, or to go out into the world to do what you feels is your calling." He took a deep breath when his speech was done and Kurt wondered just how many times he had given it over the years.

"Thank you for speaking to me, not about me," He said quietly. For so long decisions had been made for him. It was relief to hear that the professor wanted him to make them himself.

"I'll leave you to talk things over now," The professor nodded and smiled, "I want you to know, Kurt, that I will never force you to put yourself in danger. No matter what you decide, you are welcome at this school for as long as you wish to be here."

"Professor…" Kurt knew that he sounded quiet and unsure, but he was anything but.

"Yes, Kurt?"

Kurt looked to Burt for a moment and put his hand in his father's, "Please try to understand, Dad," He took a deep breath and looked back at the professor, "I don't need to think about it. I…I spent the last three years drugged out of my mind to stop voices that couldn't be stopped. If we aren't accepted that could happen to more kids because no one will ever know to look for telepathic ability. And if Magneto gets his war…it will never end. Mutants are more powerful, but there are so many more humans. All that misery…What you do here is right, Professor. And I want to be a part of it. I want to be an X-Man."

"Kurt, I appreciate that very much, but you really should discuss this with your father before…"

"No need to talk it out, Xavier," Burt sighed, running a hand over his face before it landed heavily on Kurt's shoulder, "Connie and I didn't raise our boy to be a coward and he's damn smart. He knows his own mind. I'm gonna be scared out of my mind for the rest of his life, but if this is what he wants nothing I say will stop him. And he's right. What you do here is good and it's right. I'm proud of him." He looked to Kurt, "I'm proud of you, buddy. 'Course I'll feel much better when I know you're trained, but I've seen that Logan guy. I don't think it'll be a problem."

Kurt threw himself at his father, "Love you, Dad."

Burt kissed the crown of his head, "Love you, too, kid."

"You are truly a remarkable pair," The professor chuckled, "Very well. Kurt, would you like to meet the other faculty now?"

Kurt nodded and he followed the professor out of the room and down the hall. He was surprised that he wasn't more nervous when his dad excused himself to finish his coffee and his paper as he had met the remaining staff the previous night at dinner. But, Kurt felt comfortable at the mansion. It was a strange, but not unwelcome, sensation for the mansion to feel like home so soon. The professor began to explain some of the training they would start as soon as Kurt was strong enough as they made their way down the hall.

"Professor," A tall, stunning red headed woman closed a door rather more harshly than was strictly necessary, but smiled as she walked toward them, her hands held out to Xavier, "I was just coming to find you when I realized your discussion was over."

"Yes, Jean," The professor's eyes lit as he looked at the woman he considered a daughter. Kurt could feel his affection, his love, for her and new that she had been with him since she was very young. He took her hands in his and pressed a kiss to one of them before they both turned to Kurt. "This is Kurt Hummel. Kurt, this is Jean Grey. She will be helping you learn to control your telepathy as much as I will, especially at first. It's been quite a while since I've learned so many things she very well might be able to explain them to you more thoroughly and in a better manner than I can."

"It's nice to meet you, Kurt," Jean pulled the young boy in front of her into a warm hug. Kurt could feel the worry in her mind as she held him and try as he might to add canopies to his shields and give them their private conversation he couldn't help but overhear it.

_What is it, Charles?_

_He is very powerful, Jean._

_How powerful?_

_Potentially…_ The professor must have projected an image at Jean, but as Kurt was trying his hardest not to glean he didn't receive it. He was mostly grateful and just a little curious. He pushed the curiosity down in favor of applying new shields when he began to hear their thoughts again. _He doesn't even realize he's doing it._

_Charles…that…_

_Yes, Jean. Magneto is going to do everything in his power to sway Kurt. We're going to have to be very careful with him. _

_That's not all you're worried about, is it, Charles?_

_No. There's something else about him, Jean. I'm not quite sure what it is. I've never encountered it before._

_Dangerous?_

_I don't think so. Feel his mind, Jean, the shape of his thoughts. He's a very gentle soul._

_Yes, he is. I can feel that much. _

She smiled as she released Kurt from their hug.

"How was your first night at the mansion, Kurt?" She asked aloud, "How did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in years," Kurt admitted, amazed when she kept her hand on his arm as they spoke. Before and during everything that had happened the only person who had ever really touched him was his father. Since he had woken up again people were constantly touching him, even knowing that he was a telepath and it was harder for him to control his powers when they did. He knew that it was partly that they were under orders from the professor to try to desensitize him to touch so that he wouldn't be overwhelmed when people he didn't know did it. The professor had told him that he would ask the children and staff to do so. But, he'd also felt from Finn and Mercedes, Ms. Munroe and even the professor that they also touched him because they genuinely liked him and they knew how starved he was for physical affection after so many years of no one but his father even willing to touch him at all. His father was his best friend, but it was nice to know that there were other people who cared as well.

"Good. I'm glad." Her hand slipped down to hold his gently as if there was nothing unusual about it, "Are you taking him to see Emma?" She asked the professor.

"Yes," The professor smiled as well, "Emma is our nurse here at the mansion, Kurt, and training to earn her doctorate. She'll want to start your file."

"She's probably down in the office right now wondering where you are," Jean laughed, "She's been waiting to meet you since last night. I'll see you this evening, Kurt, and we'll start lessons when you get up."

"Yes, Ms. Grey." Kurt wasn't happy about the way his voice shook. He knew that he had nothing to fear with the professor and Ms. Grey in the mansion with him, but it was still hard to think about using his gifts instead of just controlling them.

"We're going to working closely together, Kurt. Please just call me Jean."

"Yes, Jean," He said obediently. He smiled and didn't let his inner turmoil show as Jean left them. He may not have heard all of what they had been talking about in their minds, but he'd heard enough. He placed a hand to his chest as he and the professor walked toward a large elevator that Kurt knew instinctively led to the lower levels of the school, the place where he would train in the future. How powerful could he be? What would Magneto ever want with him? And why didn't the professor and Jean realize that he was gleaning from them? Shouldn't they have felt his presence in their minds?

"Are you alright, Kurt?" The professor asked as the elevator door closed.

For the second time in as many hours Kurt pulled himself out of dark thoughts. He nodded at the professor and blinked at the sudden white when the elevator door opened. He hadn't even realized that they had moved. He wasn't sure, as they walked through the halls, that white was the best color for the walls and floors of a training facility or a school but he had to admit that it was striking, beautiful in a way. There was a certain ethereal quality given to the training facilities by the stark color, like he was walking in snow, only without the cold.

He was much more comfortable when they walked into the warmly colored infirmary. It was a dark gold with accents of ivory, a nice contrast to the many beds set up with sheets as white as the walls outside. State of the art equipment was hidden by beautiful wooden cabinets above each of the beds.

"Emma redecorated when she and William moved into the mansion," Xavier answered the question Kurt was sure was in his eyes, "She feels that a comfortable infirmary helps heal faster."

"I don't believe it, Charles. I know it."

"Ah, Emma," Charles smiled and beckoned someone in.

Kurt turned to face the sweet voice and couldn't help the smile that spread across his face in answer to the one on the face of the woman who walked into the room. Her hair was more orange than red and her eyes were the biggest he had ever seen. She was very pretty in an all-American girl kind of way. He knew without knowing how that she had only recently begun to think of herself as such. She had never felt pretty at all in her life until she had met her husband and he had told her that she was the most beautiful thing in the world to him. She was just now really coming into her own at the mansion. She had a husband she loved and medicine and children were her passions. Being a doctor for a private school was her ideal job and she was amazed every day at just how well their lives had turned out after she and Will had been forced to flee for their lives from the town they'd both grown up in. Kurt set his hand to his forehead and reached out for something to hold onto when a feeling of vertigo overtook him. He really had to learn to control what he gleaned. Too much information at one time…the dizziness got worse and he felt himself begin to fall.

"No, you don't. Come on, sweetheart. Sit down. That's right."

Emma was surprisingly strong as she grabbed his arms and prevented his fall, helping him into a chair. Kurt grunted unhappily when his head was forced firmly between his knees, but he knew it was for his own good and stayed that way, breathing deep, until the dizziness passed. When he looked up a pen light was immediately in his eyes and he had to work not to close them.

"Better?" Emma asked as she checked his pupil dilation.

"Yes," He answered sheepishly. She just went about her business as if nothing had happened. Kurt was grateful for it.

"Good. You're probably going to want to go take a nap for a couple of hours after this. I'm afraid for the next few days you aren't going to be good for much but sleeping and eating. Maybe a few lessons with Jean or Charles if they're short. Your body needs to catch up on rest it's been denied for years. Just because your mind's in a better place doesn't mean you can push yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes," He answered again, a little overwhelmed by her brusque, professional manner and how quickly she moved, strong and purposeful, as she walked quickly over to the desk in the corner of the infirmary. She used a good amount of hand sanitizer before she carried the bottle back and pushed it at Kurt and the professor.

"Now," She set the sanitizer down on one of the beds after they had used it. She reminded him a little of a hummingbird as she sat in a rolling stool and pulled an electronic notebook off of one of the bedside tables. Even when she was still she seemed to be moving, full of energy. "Any allergies to medications or foods that I should know about? Have you ever had a major surgery?"

"Penicillin and I had my tonsils out when I was twelve," Kurt listed off obediently.

"No foods?"

"No," He shrugged a little, "I'm a vegetarian, but I don't have any allergies."

"Okay…" She made note of it and then looked back at him, "Good. Any lingering affects from the medication withdrawal?"

"Just tired. A little weak."

"Like I said, that's to be expected," She made a few notes on her pad and then back up at him, "Any pre-existing conditions I should know about?"

"Does my telepathy count?"

A small smile spread across his face when the confused look on her face transformed and she let out a pretty laugh. He looked at the professor, saw him smiling and managed a chuckle himself. It felt good to laugh.

"You're going to fit in just fine here, Kurt," Emma smiled, "I think that's everything I need. Do you have any questions for me?"

"No, I don't think so," Kurt said softly. The mood in the room had gone from light and pleasant to heavy in an instant and he wasn't sure quite why. Emma and the professor were still smiling at him.

"Okay, then," She set aside her pad, "Well, you should probably go get a nap in. I'll see you at dinner. Charles, if you wouldn't mind staying for a few minutes, I'd like to discuss something with you."

"Of course, my dear. Kurt, do you think that you can find your way back upstairs and to your room?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good," The professor nodded, satisfied, "If you are hungry when you wake from your nap the kitchen is always open to you. Now, Emma," The professor began as Kurt got off the table and slowly began making his way toward the door, "This is about young Matthew, I take it?"

Kurt could feel the concern coming off of them in waves, but as much as he wanted to know what was causing them such distress he didn't want to intrude on their private conversation. He closed the door quietly behind him and made his way back through the halls he and the professor had come through. The elevator ride back up was just as jarringly smooth as it had been on the way down. He stopped back at the porch to tell his dad that he was going to take a nap and kissed his balding head before he made his way slowly up the grand staircase. It took him longer than he thought it should as he made his way up the stairs. He had to pause half way up and resisted the urge to sit down. Instead he put his hands on his knees and breathed deep for a couple of seconds, his head falling into his chest.

"Kurt? Kurt, are you okay?" The last voice and mind he didn't yet know (Though the mind was smooth and content, like a warm blanket on a cold day.) interrupted his momentary pause on the stairs. He looked up at the concerned face, relatively young, but his eyes spoke of the hardship and fear that he had faced in his life. This was William Schuester, Kurt realized, the teacher at the school that the professor said had to flee for his life after his mutant abilities were discovered. He was Emma's husband. Kurt liked him already if his love was what made the sweet doctor so happy.

"It is Kurt, right?" The man asked as he reached out to take Kurt's elbow in his hand and help him straighten up, "Kurt Hummel? Telepath?"

Kurt brought himself out of his reading of and smiled at the kind faced man, "Yes. Yes, I'm Kurt Hummel. And I guess I am a telepath."

"You guess?" The chuckle in Schuester's voice made a giggle come from Kurt's lips that he hadn't expected.

"No. I don't guess. I am a telepath. And what…what…It's silly, but I'm not sure how to go about asking…what you can do?"

"I'm able to take sound waves and transform them into images. Sometimes into colors, like the northern lights, sometimes into pictures. If there's enough sound around me it's more than just images. I can transform the sound waves into concussive force. There hasn't been enough sound to cause a whole lot of damage yet in my experience, but I've been known to peel wallpaper and crack plaster." He looked Kurt up and down, took in his pale face and the slight tremble to his hands, "Do you want help up to your room?"

Kurt lowered his head, his cheeks heating, "I want to say no."

"Say no more." Mr. Schuester didn't pick him up, which he was grateful for, but he did feel like an invalid as the older man moved to his side, wrapped one arm securely around his waist and took his elbow with the other and practically carried him up the stairs as if he was an old man. "I'm Will Schuester, by the way," He said as they made their way slowly down the hall.

"Nurse Emma's husband," Kurt said quietly.

"Nurse Emma…" Will grinned foolishly at the thought of his wife and then turned the look to Kurt, "That's right."

Kurt basked in the warm glow of William Schuester's love for his wife and his contented state. There was always something about everyone else when they were around him that prevented them from being completely happy. The professor was worried for him, why Kurt didn't know. Jean was wary of him, again Kurt didn't know why. The other students were happy, fun people and he was sure he was going to get to like them very much, but they were a little too bogged down in their teenaged melodramas to be completely content. And his father…his father was still unsure that everything would be okay now, despite the calm and hopeful demeanor he tried to put off for Kurt. It was so nice to be around someone who, if even for just the moment, was fully happy. Then, they passed a room, the one he had felt earlier with the dreaming boy and everything changed. Will Schuester's demeanor went from happy to melancholy in an instant and the drowsy fear he felt from behind the door made his breath catch and his body freeze. He turned to the door, caught in the fear that he could barely feel and heard a long, low moan. It took him nearly thirty seconds to realize that it was coming from him. His hands began to ache like they were on fire and he looked down to see them covered in blood.

"No, no, no…" He repeated it over and over again and grasped his head, "Not mine. Not mine. Not my thoughts. Not my pain. Not my fear."

"Kurt," Will's voice was soft and firm in his ear, "Kurt, come away from the door now. Come on. It's okay."

"Mr. Schue…" Kurt couldn't even finish his name before his knees gave out.

He didn't even realize that he'd been holding his breath until Mr. Schuester had swooped him up in surprisingly strong arms and carried him down the hall to lay him in his own bed. He just laid there for a few moments, trying to get his breath back, looking down at his clean hands, and getting the tears he hadn't even realized were pouring down his face to stop. It would be good to be here, he thought distractedly, where people understood how to take care of him when he lost control. Will brought him a cool glass of water and a wet cloth that he ran over the back of Kurt's neck and over his tear streaked face as Kurt sipped slowly. His new teacher was exuding calming thoughts as he took care of Kurt, knowing exactly what he needed.

"Who was that?" Kurt asked, not really all that embarrassed when his voice broke.

"That's Matt," Will said quietly, "He…he sees possibilities. All the time. Most of them aren't very pretty. And he can't turn them off. He…last night he saw a possible present where soldiers had broken into the mansion and were trying to kill everyone. He shattered his mirror and tried to attack someone who wasn't there. He couldn't tell the difference between the real world and what he was seeing. We had to sedate him."

"I didn't feel him like that when I got up this morning," Kurt couldn't resist the urge to curl into Will's side and was comforted when Will just put an arm around him and rubbed his back.

"I was in the room with him. I can usually help him stay calm if I sing and project for him. I was just going to get some lunch and then head back up when I ran into you. He'll calm down completely in a couple of days."

_Until his next attack._ Will sighed and Kurt didn't have to be a telepath to know what he was thinking. He could see it all over his face.

"How often does he have attacks?" Kurt asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Usually once a week or so. When he does you're going to want to keep yourself locked down pretty tight. He's still partially sedated right now and you saw how much you gleaned. Imagine that but ten times as bad. Of course it'll be easier when you're trained up a bit. God, you look tired." He took Kurt's face in one hand and ran the other over Kurt's hair, "Take a nap, Kurt. The rest of the kids'll be back in a few hours and I can guarantee they're not going to let you stay in your room. They're kind of like puppies when a new student comes."

"And I'm the shiny new toy?" Kurt asked.

"In a way," Will pulled the blanket up around his shoulders.

"I think I can handle that," He murmured sleepily before closing his eyes.

It turned out, Will was right. In the late afternoon Kurt was awoken by someone gently shaking his shoulder and running a finger down his nose. He woke completely to see Mercedes looking down at him, a gentle, sweet smile on her face. He spent the evening with the other students, surprised when he was able to help them with some of their homework. He had no idea if he had gleaned things while he was in the hospital or if he had gotten ahead when he was teaching himself but it was a comfort to know that he wouldn't be completely lost when he was finally going to school with them. They all seemed to understand the times their thoughts got to be too much for his shields and he had to step outside to get himself back under control. Dinner together was a sweet affair, with all of the students and staff gathered around one very large table and sharing about their days. Kurt sat in between Finn and his father and felt a wave of content overwhelm him as he listen to the two discuss football around him.

The next three weeks only further proved to him that his father had made the best decision for both of them when he listened to the professor. He hadn't felt so in control of himself since he turned twelve. On an average day he got up early to have a lesson with Jean while they worked out side by side. He was getting stronger again and running on the treadmill while Jean did the elliptical and taught him how to build new defenses felt good. After working out and his lesson on control and defense he would shower and have breakfast with the others before they headed out to school. After the others left he might hang out with his dad for a little bit, working on one of the many cars in the garage that his dad was tuning up for the professor, or he might garden with Ms. Munroe while Mr. Wagner read to them from whatever had caught his attention for the day, or he might go for a nap if he was tired enough. If he had pushed himself hard in his workout or Jean had pushed him hard in his lessons. Most days he shared a silent lunch with Mr. Summers and the professor. Their quiet natures spoke to him and made himself feel peaceful. After lunch he would spend an hour with the professor learning how to use his powers somewhat offensively even though they were both getting frustrated because Kurt's fears were holding him back and the professor's defenses were up so far that Kurt was sure that he couldn't feel his feeble attempts anyway. After taking fifteen minutes to calm down and let his frustration go he met Mr. Logan on the lower levels of the mansion. The man absolutely terrified him, but he figured that was good. He was picking up on the self defense faster than he or Logan had expected, but it still didn't mean that he was very good at it. He tripped over himself all the time, even as he got stronger and was afraid of taking a hit. Logan didn't sugar coat anything. He told Kurt that he was awful, but he was never cruel, for which Kurt was appreciative.

"Kid, you got to stop being so scared all the time. You shy away and instead of taking yourself out of danger you open yourself up to attack. If you're gonna pull back at least cover your ass, got it?" The warm hand on his shoulder as Logan spoke took away the sting from his words. Kurt was coming to like him very much. More than anyone in the mansion Logan reminded Kurt of his father. He was gruff on the outside, but tender on the inside where it counted. Even at his toughest, his meanest, it didn't take much pushing for Kurt to see the love for all of the students in his mind. Perhaps it was because he was the only one who could feel it, but he began to notice the emotions on Logan's face as well. The quirking of his eyebrow just so meant that he was amused by something they had done. He usually did it when Finn blundered into something again. He yelled, but inside he was laughing. The line that appeared between his eyes meant that he was worried or upset about something. If anyone brought up Matt it appeared. The corners of his lips tightened when he was angry. Pissed off was the better description. Usually he only saw that when Mr. Logan was around Mr. Summers or when Mr. LeBeau was teasing him. Watching him with Mr. LeBeau made Kurt laugh quietly, but watching him with Mr. Summers made him leave the room. It was hard enough to feel their animosity toward each other in a very vague sense no matter how tight his shields were. Listening to their thoughts scream at each other and watching how tense they were when they were within ten feet of each other gave him a migraine.

His voice was finally coming back. He was surprised one morning, two weeks into his new life, when his voice came out strong and sure when he began to sing in the shower. Singing had always brought him such joy and it was no different at the mansion. He sang as often as he could and was surprised and delighted to find that the others did as well. Most of the evenings in the mansion were spent sitting in the living room while Artie and Sam played their guitars, Finn played on the drum set that rested in the corner, and Kurt sat down at the piano. He hadn't played in years, but he had a good ear and his fingers remembered what he'd once learned. Will was teaching Artie and Sam and it was always a pleasure for all of them when he came down and played with them. The professor was considering adding a sound proofed music room for them seeing as they all loved to sing and play with each other.

The only dark spot in Kurt's otherwise wonderful new life was the fact that his father couldn't stay with him forever. He had his own business in Ohio to get back to. His mechanics had been doing a great job, but unless he intended to sell the business, he couldn't expect them to do so forever, no matter how supportive they were. He spent as much time with his dad as possible. He didn't feel guilty when he had a nightmare that he was back at the hospital and had to run down the stairs and crawl into the bed with his dad to feel his strength and love surround him even in sleep. They simply talked to his dad as often and for as long as he could. Sometimes they talked about Kurt's mom and how her death had affected them both. Sometimes they talked about the mechanics at the shop that Kurt hadn't seen in years. He made his dad promise that as soon as he was back he would email pictures of Carlos' twins and Steve's fiancée. Kurt wanted so much to be around his dad that he even curled up with him on the couch at times and watched sports. At the end of his third week at the mansion his dad told him that he would only be able to stay another week before he had to head back to Ohio. Kurt tried to be strong, hugged his dad, and told him that he understood. His dad saw through that right away, but assured Kurt with a single look and pulse of loving sadness that he was feeling exactly the same way. They held tight to each other on the couch as watched a movie with the other students and pretended they were fine. Six days later his father left. Kurt wasn't able to watch him go. He ate breakfast with him, clung to him as Mr. Summers loaded his suitcases into the truck they would be taking back to Ohio, and then tore inside to hide in his room until his father was gone. He hid there all day and was glad when no one came to bother him most of the day. Ms. Munroe brought him a tray, watched while he ate just as the sun was going down, and stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

The next morning Mercedes woke him early the same way she had been waking him up for three weeks whenever it fell to her. She called his name softly in her sweet voice and ran a single finger down his forehead and over his nose until he opened his eyes. He opened his eyes to see her smiling at him and automatically burst into tears.

"Oh, baby," She murmured and slipped into the bed with him and wrapped her arms around his shaking form, "It's going to be okay. You know that your dad can come see you whenever he wants to, right? Hell, the professor will probably make the room he's in his room. Finn's mom has one. So do Rachel's dads and my nana. And it's not like this is a prison. You'll be heading home for summers and holidays when you feel like you can handle it. You know that right? And there's always the phone and video chatting and…Oh, honey…It's going to be fine."

Kurt cried himself out on her shoulder while she murmured reassurances to him. When he was done his nose felt like it was the size of a grapefruit and his eyes were burning. Mercedes just laughed softly and went into the bathroom to grab the tissues that neither he nor Artie ever really seemed to use. They both laughed when he blew his nose loudly and she kissed his forehead before she ran her fingers over his face. Her powers didn't generally extend to people or animals but he could feel her intentions in his mind and a slight tingling on his skin that made him feel cool and refreshed. All his life he had wanted a friend like Mercedes. Now that he had her he was so grateful and knew that it was her and her simple, loving devotion to their new friendship and his happiness that was going to get him through his dad leaving. He leaned his head against her shoulder and smiled when she rubbed a hand brusquely on his knee.

"Okay, baby," She smiled, "You think you're locked down enough for a trip to the mall? We need some retail therapy and we need it fast. What do you say? There's a really good day spa. We could get facials and mani-pedis and maybe you could even get a…"

"A haircut?" Kurt asked. He could feel the way his expression lifted and his eyes lit. She threw her head back and laughed.

"A haircut," She agreed after a moment.

"Let me just get permission from the professor." Kurt ran out of the room before he could even consider the fact that he was still in his pajamas and neither his hair nor his teeth were brushed.

"Ladies!" He heard Mercedes call out down the hall as he ran down the stairs toward the professor's study, "Mall crawl!"

An hour later found him in the passenger seat of one of the big black SUVs that the school kept for instances just such as this. Quinn smiled at him and his enjoyment of their happiness as she drove. He couldn't seem to stop smiling and his happiness and enjoyment of his new friends was only increased when the five of them were seated in pedicure chairs, catching Kurt up on current movie stars and all of the drama in their lives. He felt better, more like himself, after his hair had been cut and styled and they were on their way to get him some clothes that weren't Levi jeans or Hanes t-shirts. His father had meant well and on short notice the clothes had been fine but, really…all of his clothes could have been bought at Wal-Mart and probably were. The mere thought made him a little nauseated.

It seemed like the perfect day until the early afternoon when the girls went to the bathroom (As a unit, as girls were wont to do.) and he was left alone at their table in the food court. He'd checked and rechecked his shields again and again as the day went on, but hadn't checked them in a while. It wasn't until he heard the first voices in his head that he realized that he wasn't protecting himself.

_Fifty bucks? Gotta be out of her fucking mind…_

_I could just get up right now while he's at the counter and slip away. He'd never be able to find…_

_Stop staring at the kid! Snap out of it, dude. Blaine'll notice…_

_What the hell is that kid's problem? Acting all spooked like he…_

Kurt felt his breath begin to come in short bursts and concentrated on calming it as he set his fingers to his temples, knowing that the simple act would be enough to strengthen his shields back up again. Before he could do so a loud screeching filled his head, so loud that it hurt on a physical level and made him fall out of his seat screaming, writhing on the floor with a pain that wouldn't stop. He clamped his hands over his ears, but the scream didn't stop. He felt a thin line of blood begin to fall from his nose as he worked himself to his knees, his face pressed against the cool tile of the food court floor. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that this was something Jean was training to prevent. It was a telepathic attack and he had failed miserably at protecting himself from it. He whimpered, half in the agony the attack brought, and half in fear. People were driven insane by this kind of mental attack Jean had told him. His mind could be broken for real and they would send him back to the hospital and no matter what Professor Xavier did he would spend the rest of his life there. He screamed again.

As suddenly as the attack had begun it stopped. The screeching stopped and the silence around him was overwhelming and comforting for only a half second before all of the thoughts of the people around him flooded his head. He sobbed and fell to his side, letting peaceful darkness take him.

When he came to, just seconds later, his shields were still down, but someone else was shielding him. His first thought was that it was the professor, but then he remembered that the professor was all the way at the mansion. He struggled to open his eyes, but they felt like lead, and instead concentrated on who was shielding him. No one he knew. The mind was steel gray but pulsed with warm liquid silver and for some reason Kurt felt safe lost in it. He moaned from the back of his dry throat as something cool and wet dripped over his face.

"Come on," A voice he had never heard before to match the mind he had never felt encouraged, "Show me your eyes. Let me know that he didn't kill you."

"I'm not dead," Kurt croaked, surprised at the sound of his own voice.

"Good to know," The voice to on an amused, annoying edge, "Now open your damn eyes and prove it."

It was like lifting weights with Jean, but Kurt was finally able to force his lids up. He frowned when a boy about his own age came into view. He was handsome. So handsome he took Kurt's breath away, with his stunning hazel eyes and his pretty caramel colored skin that looked as soft as silk. But, that didn't mean that Kurt had to let him know that. Especially since it seemed that whoever the stranger was knew who had tried to stir Kurt's mind up so bad that his brain leaked out through his ears.

"You have the most ridiculous haircut I've ever seen." The words came out without a thought to if they were a good or bad idea. He winced back in fear when a fist came toward his face. He realized it was ridiculous considering the boy was cradling him half on and half off of his lap and supporting his shoulders with a strong arm. A surprised look crossed the boy's face and he pulled back a little, loosening his fist to something less threatening.

"Yep. You're okay," He arched an eyebrow, "And don't be insulting the Hawk." He reached again and Kurt flinched away on instinct once more. The boy rolled his eyes, "Relax, princess. I'm not going to hurt you." He looked over his shoulder as if making sure that no one was watching and opened his palm completely. Kurt's eyes went wide when a thin sheen of ice smooth over the strong hand. He didn't flinch again as that hand ran over his face once again, cooling his heated skin. He couldn't help the little moan he made from the back of his throat. The boy smirked. Kurt's moan turned into a scoff and if he was strong enough he would have pulled himself up indignantly. As if was he wasn't able to do more than roll his eyes.

"You're the new Xavier kid, right?"

"Yes," Kurt answered.

"Nice to meet you, princess. Name's…"

"Puckerman! Get your hands off of him!" Rachel's screech, laced with her power, had Kurt reaching up arms that felt like lead to cover his ears and the boy who was holding him ducking his head against it. Rather chivalrous of him not to drop Kurt to protect himself, Kurt thought distantly as he put his hands down after the sound waves had calmed. The red on his skin caught his eye as he put his hands down and it took him a minute to process that there was blood covering them. Blood that had apparently come from his ears. He looked up into hazel eyes that were no longer arrogant and annoyed. Now the eyes were concerned and surprisingly vulnerable. Kurt felt his body go limp moments before his mind shut down and he wasn't aware of anything anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

**All previous disclaimers apply.**

**Author's Note: After a year of being absent, my health finally seems to be on an upswing! Thank you to everyone who wrote and asked me to continue this story. Sorry for this short, not great, chapter. I'm still trying to get back into things. I'm just going to power through and maybe someday come back and re-write this. **

**Updated Author's Note: Decided to fix it up some. Hope it's a little more satisfying.**

Damn it all to hell. Noah Puckerman, better known as Puck, slammed his hand against the steering wheel of the old truck that was one of the only things that had come with him when he left his home, unable to keep his mutation a secret from his mother and younger sister any longer. He had left to keep them safe. If they didn't know about his powers then they couldn't be blamed and punished for him having them. Where he was from, a little nowhere town in the middle of Iowa, population less than a thousand, they didn't treat mutants kindly and they treated those who harbored them even less kindly. Puck had watched a woman hung by a group of masked men when he was just ten years old, before his own powers had developed. They'd made the woman's mutant husband watch as she strangled to death, then shot him in the head. Puck's own father had taken him to see it, had wanted him to see it. He'd wanted him to understand what "good people" did to "freaks of nature." He'd pushed him to the front of the group and held his head between strong hands when he tried to turn away, threatening to hurt Miriam, his own daughter and Puck's tiny little sister, if he closed his eyes.

Eli Puckerman had never been a good man. His cruelty had been mistaken for sharp wit when he was younger, but it had come to light as he got older and drank more and more. Puck had often thought, when he was younger, that there must be something twisted wrong in his father's insides. He couldn't be like everyone else. Because Noah knew none of his friend's fathers would offer a hug and then smack them across the face so hard they felt like their eyes were going to explode as they fell to the ground if they actually moved in for it. He knew none of his friend's fathers refused their sons food until they were starving and then ate a sandwich in front of them. He just tried to ignore it when his father was drunk and yelling. He knew he wasn't the one who ruined his father's life. His mother told him so when she hugged him close after cleaning him up again after his father hit him and made his nose or his lip bleed. Rebecka Puckerman had never been a bad woman. She just hadn't been a strong woman. She'd never thought enough of herself or her chances at survival to get herself and her children away from her abusive husband. She'd always done everything she could to help both her children, as long as she wasn't directly disobeying Eli. She would keep them in the bedroom so he didn't see them while he was getting drunk and push them behind her so that her husband went for her first even though Eli's favorite target was by far his son. She did the best she could for him, but if it came down to protecting Noah or protecting Miriam she always went for Miriam. He'd never resented her for it. Miriam had been so tiny and she was a girl, like his mother. It had been his job to protect them, no matter what his father did to him, and no matter how young he was.

Noah had never been more relieved or grateful for anything than the day his father had left him and his mother and sister in peace. He couldn't imagine what the man would have done if he'd ever found out about his own son's mutant power. He would have killed him instead of just beating him to within an inch of his life. And now Noah, who had become Puck the day his father left and it became his job to take care of his mother and his younger sister, had let something he had sworn he would stop at all costs happen right in front of him. The night he had been forced to watch the man whose name he had never known watch his wife die right before his eyes, he had sworn to himself that he would never let something like that happen again if he could help it. He would never watch someone die ever again if he could prevent it at all. And now…now he might have put another mutant, a kid no older than him who looked pale and so very fragile, in danger of being killed.

Killed by another mutant. Another mutant who was supposed to be on the same team as he was. Damn. Damn. Damn! He slammed his hand against the steering wheel again, bit back a frustrated shout, and ran the same hand over the strip of hair on his head. What the hell had Blaine been thinking, attacking the new Xavier kid like that? They'd heard the X-freaks talking about him while they were in school, but none of them had ever given away what his power might be. How had Blaine known that a psychic attack would take him down so easily? And how had Blaine even done it? They were all trained in psychic defense, but most of them didn't have the psychic capability to actually attack. How the hell had Blaine learned to do that? And why the hell did he do it? He'd almost killed the kid in a crowded food court. Killed him. Fuck. Puck hadn't signed up with The Brotherhood to kill anyone. Especially someone who seemed so small and had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Sure he enjoyed fighting with them. It was fun. They were nearly as tough as he was and getting more skilled any challenging every time they went up against each other. They pushed him to be better, stronger, faster than he had ever thought he could be, but he would never even consider hurting one of them seriously, let alone kill them. And he would never even think about setting a finger on the boy he had watched Blaine nearly kill.

He'd seen the kid from across the food court with the Xavier girls the moment they'd sat down. It was hard not to see him. There was such an air of joy and relief around him. He smiled all the time. A wide smile when he was talking and laughing with the girls. A small, private smile, not meant for anyone else, when he was sitting by himself. Puck wondered just how long the kid had been wherever had locked him up. It was common practice for humans to lock young mutants up when they didn't understand them and the boy he had seen sitting at the table had all of the signs of it. He was bright and delicate and pale like he'd been out of the sun for too long. He shied away from human contact when it wasn't one of the X girls, flinching when a big, burly type came within a foot of the table. He seemed, somehow, fragile and that had an affect on Puck that he hadn't felt in a long time when it didn't come to one of the girls he had taken in as his own. There was just something about the kid that made Puck want to wrap him up in his arms and keep him safe. He couldn't help but think that maybe that was why Blaine had attacked him. Blaine's low-level psychic ability allowed him to get vague impressions on all their thoughts. If he thought there was something that Puck might want for himself his first reaction would always be to take it out. It was Blaine's first reaction to everything that wasn't playing out exactly the way he thought it should..

"Let's go, Puckerman."

Think of the devil and he shall appear.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Puck asked as he turned the key in the ignition and Blaine slammed his door shut.

"Charming as always," Blaine sneered, "Just get us back to the house."

"Yeah, fine. Whatever," Puck scoffed. He didn't even bother to turn on the radio. He and Blaine could never agree on what to listen to and Puck's head was starting to pound. He was already feeling sick to his stomach from what had happened at the mall. Add the migraine he could feel coming on and it just wasn't worth it to start a fight with Blaine over something as stupid as what music to listen to in the car. He jerked the wheel just a little in surprise when a black hole appeared over his shoulder and Brittany Pierce, one of the two girls he lived with and by far the sweeter one, dropped into the middle of the bench seat, a vacant kind of smile on her face.

"Brit," Puck said gently when his heart had stopped racing, "What have I told you about porting into a moving car?"

"It's not safe. Cars are going too fast and I might misjudge the speed and distance," Brittany intoned obediently, "And that I should never do it. But…" she trailed off for a moment, and then seemed to get her train of thought back, "I've been getting so much better at it. And Coach asked me to find you and Blaine."

Puck couldn't help the smile that pulled up a corner of his mouth. It was hard to be angry with Brittany over anything. She was spacey and easily distracted, but in her own way was the most genuine person Puck had ever met. She only ever said what she meant and always said what was on her mind. Puck had felt the same urge to protect her that he'd felt for the new Xavier kid in the mall since the first time he'd met her when Sue Sylvester had recruited him to The Brotherhood and asked him to come live with other mutants his own age. It wasn't as if he'd had any better offers. In a way both Santana and Brittany reminded him of his little sister. He had a feeling Miri would grow up to have the best parts of both of them. Santana's strength, Brittany's joy…at least she had a chance to grow into that now that he was gone from her life. He only wished he could see it. He pushed the thought away as quickly as it'd come into his head. There was no use in wishing or regretting what couldn't be.

"Tell her we're on our way back to the house." Puck shot her a wink over his shoulder before turning back to the road.

"Or you could just port the whole truck with us inside it," Blaine drawled.

Brittany looked confused for a moment and then smiled, "I could try that!"

"No!" Puck's denial was harsher than he meant it to be and he knew that Brittany would take it as meaning that he was mad at her, but he would have to apologize later, "Brit, just go home. We'll be there in five minutes. That'll have to do for Coach, okay?"

"Okay, Puck," Her voice held concealed tears and he could see that her eyes were wet as she opened another black whole in the floor boards and dropped through it.

"What the hell is your problem, Anderson?" He tried to keep his voice under control, "You know that she would have tried it and it probably would have killed her."

"Someone's got to teach her that she can't be so naïve. If she died, The Brotherhood would be well rid of her. If she didn't die she would learn quickly that she can't always trust people, even her own kind."

Puck couldn't contain his anger as he pulled into the dirt drive of the rundown, once beautiful house that was home to all of them. The truck screeched as he slammed on the brakes, as if it would fall apart with too much rough treatment.

"We don't harm our own kind, Blaine." He bit out the words as he jumped out of the truck, then leaned back in to make sure that Blaine could see the anger in his eyes, "Even you should be able to hold to that."

"Our own kind…" Blaine laughed lowly, not a trace of mirth in it, "Are you talking about others in The Brotherhood, Puckerman? Or mutants in general? Or do you mean all of humanity? Really, you should be more specific."

Puck pulled back when an image of the new mutant at Xavier's popped into his head as he had been when he first saw him, sitting at the table in the mall before Blaine had attacked him. Calm and peaceful, looking as free as any person Puck had ever seen. He didn't know how long he stood in the open car door, but when he came back to himself Blaine was at his elbow, his mouth close to Puck's ear. His words made Puck go cold.

"I saw how you looked at him, Noah. You may want to watch yourself and remember who was your first wilting flower. If I can make you believe that, just imagine what I can make him believe."

It took Puck a couple of breaths to be able to follow Blaine into the house. But, when he did it automatically made him feel just a little bit lighter, loosening the knot in his chest despite the fear still in the back of his mind for the Xavier boy. There were only certain things that someone could depend on in life. Walking into the house he shared with his friends was one of them. No matter how far he travelled or how long he was gone he could always count on walking into the living room and seeing Santana and Brittany curled up on the couch, their pinkies linked and lost in their own little world. Dave and Azimio could always be counted upon to be wrestling in the middle of the floor. When they got too excited Dave could make the foundation shake and Azimio could accidently forget himself and release a concussive blast of energy that might shatter a window or crack the walls down to the sheetrock. Even Blaine, slouched down in the armchair in the corner, was such a common sight that he was almost welcome, despite all of the things that he'd said and done during the day.

"Enough, all of you!" Coach's voice was as expected as the rest of it and still as grating as Puck had anticipated, "Lesbitrons, separate. Tubby One and Tubby Two, get off the floor. The scent of your sweat offends me. Mohawk, sit your ass down. Where the hell is…oh, you are here, Hobbit. Fine. Good."

The first time Puck had seen Coach Sue Sylvester of The Brotherhood he'd thought that she was the most stunning woman he had ever seen. He wasn't attracted to her in any way, but her utter confidence in herself, the way she had torn into the stolen car he had wrapped around a tree with her bare hands, had called to him. The fact that anyone had cared enough to pull him out of that car had amazed him. It was the first time anyone had ever told him that he was worth anything, even if Coach had never actually said the words. She was stunning to him even now, but he had come to realize that a lot of her power came from keeping other people down. That was something he couldn't quite get behind, but, at the same time, where else was he supposed to go? What else was he supposed to do? He couldn't leave the others here at Blaine's mercy and sometimes he was the only thing that kept Brit, Tana, and Dave from going insane when he played his little mind games with them to amuse himself. Azimio wasn't smart enough to be hurt by the things Blaine and Coach said and did, but it didn't mean that he didn't need Puck to stay around any less than the others.

"There's a new kid at Xavier's." Coach started in without preamble.

"Yes, Puckerman and I met him at the mall this afternoon," Blaine drawled, "Or Puckerman did, at least."

"Don't really care about that," Coach looked past all of them as if she couldn't actually see them, as if she was looking right through them, then her concentration came back, "He's a telepath. My sources say probably one of the most powerful in the world. Our benefactor wants him. Any way we can get him," She looked at Blaine for a moment and they seemed to share something that none of the others could understand, not that any of them but Puck was actually paying attention, "He'll probably be attending the hell you call school as soon enough. Learn about him. Be…nice to him…or whatever. Do whatever you have to do to get him away from Xavier. Now, get out of my sight. Sick of looking at all of you. Hobbit, stay behind."

Santana and Brittney left without a glance. Nothing about the meeting had been strange to them at all. Sue only really stopped by the house when she had something to tell them, orders for them. They linked pinkies and giggled quietly with each other as they made their way out of the room. Azimio lumbered after them without a word, heading toward the kitchen, which reminded Puck. He headed over to Sue just as Dave passed him. They shared a look, just Dave's eyebrow up as he paused for a moment. Puck shook his head and Dave nodded. They would talk later.

"Sue…"

"Mohawk, thought I told you to get out of my sight." Sue fixed a glare on him that had him wanting to shrink down, but he held his ground and straightened further.

"We need food, Sue. We haven't gone to the grocery store in nearly a month."

"Ugh." Sue pulled her wallet out of the jacket of her suit and handed him over a few bills like giving them to him physically caused her pain.

"Thanks." Puck tucked the bills into his pocket. He would have to head to store before Blaine was finished talking with Sue if he wanted all of the money to go to the food and general maintenance of the house they all shared. Blaine was the only one of the them who had come from a family that had money and the adjustment to not getting everything he wanted on a whim was hard for him, not that he was even trying to adjust. Most of the time he just took whatever he wanted out of their monthly allowance from Sue and let the rest of them fend for themselves. But, Puck had taken care of his family for long enough as a kid. There was no way he was going to let his new family go without, if he could help it at all.

"Close the door behind you," Blaine drawled as he headed out. Puck rolled his eyes. If he didn't know that Sue would tell him to do the same thing he would have just left the door open, but as it was it wasn't worth the dressing down not closing the door would get him treated to.

"What did you find out, Hobbit?" Sue snapped out, turning back to Blaine, who sat up straighter in the chair.

"You sure he's a telepath?" Blaine asked.

Puck closed the door before he heard anything else. He sighed as he walked through the halls of the house. He was pretty sure that if the entire city didn't fear Sue Sylvester their home would have been labeled condemned property years ago. The foundation was cracking which in turn was sending cracks up the walls and toward the ceiling. The roof leaked when in rained in so many places it might as well not have been there. The refrigerator was on it's last legs. The stove might as well have been wood burning. But, it was a lot better than what Santana had when she was sleeping on the streets and no one tried to put a knife in Dave's gut here like they had when his powers had come to light in his home town. Like it or not, this was home and this mixed up bunch of freaks was his new family. He closed his eyes, sighed against the sudden exhaustion that overtook him and leaned against the wall for a moment.

"Adams, you so much as…"

He pushed himself off of the wall as soon as he heard the argument between Santana and Azimio begin. Might as well cut it off before it escalated.

"Food run," He said as he opened the door to the kitchen, "Anyone in?"

The next couple of days went by in a flash of training in the backyard, keeping his housemates from killing each other or destroying their dilapidated house, fixing up what he could of said house, and avoiding Blaine. It wasn't all that hard. Blaine was keeping himself locked in his room unless it was mealtime, and then he disappeared as soon as he had eaten. Puck was grateful because there was something getting to Dave that he wasn't telling anyone and he had been much more angry and violent than usual. It was all Puck could do to calm him down enough not to shake the house apart when he and Azimio got into a fight. A fight Azimio, apparently, didn't understand. He was just as surprised that Dave had gone after him without warning or seeming provocation as the others were. Before Puck knew it he was back in school, trying his damnedest to look like he wasn't exhausted down to what felt like his soul and like he didn't care about anything. It was easy to be what other people thought you were when no one wanted to give you a chance to be anything else. His teachers saw a dumbass punk, so it was easy to let them believe that that was what he was. A dumbass punk with no future. But, he wasn't dumb. He understood everything they discussed in class. He could do the homework if he wanted to and do well on it. He just…

The anger overtook him and made him see red for a moment He slammed his locker, not even sure why he bothered to bring his book to class (It wasn't like he was even going to open it.) and turned just in time to see the Xavier kids heading down the hall. Did they ever walk in anything but a pack? He ran a hand through his mohawk. He didn't think he'd ever seen them in a group of less than four. It always made it fun when he wanted to fight, but harder when he just wanted to talk to one of them. He cooled his hand almost enough to form ice crystals on it and ran it over his face before he made his attempt.

"Hudson!" He called out just as most of the group was past him. The tall mutant turned around, a look on his face angrier than Puck had ever seen it. Generally, the big guy had a kind of dopey, affable expression on his face. Now he was just looking like he wanted to kill Puck as he stalked toward him. If Puck had been less of a badass he would stepped back when the kid got in his face and flinched when he slammed his fist into the locker just next to his head.

"What the hell do you want, Puckerman? Didn't do enough damage on Saturday at the mall? Dude, I should beat your ass right now for even…"

"Is he okay?" Puck asked quietly, looking down at his shoes. It was a calculated move. It made him seem more vulnerable than he actually was. Most of the Xavier kids would fall for it when it came to him and most of the others in the house. And that was the main difference between the Xavier kids and The Brotherhood. The Brotherhood didn't let emotion and possibility rule when they fought. The Xavier kids were too…good to do anything but. The move and the question did their job and seemed to trip Finn up. He cut off his rant, obviously carefully planned and looked confused for a moment.

"Why do you even care?" He asked after a bit, dropping his fist, taking a step back, and sounding much younger than he was.

Puck looked up at him and opened his mouth to answer, but couldn't think of anything to say, and closed it again before running a hand through his hair uncomfortably. Why did he care? It felt like eternity had gone by before he was able to answer, "I don't know."

Hudson blinked a couple of times and began to speak slowly, "He's…okay. He had a nasty headache the past couple of days and stayed on the couch so that the girls could play nurse. He slept a lot. Complained about the blood from his nose and his ears staining his new clothes. That's how we knew he was feeling better. Jean and Prof. X aren't letting him out again until his defenses are stronger, but…he's gonna be okay." For a minute Hudson got the kind of constipated look he always got when he was thinking too hard, "You…you didn't have anything to do with the attack…did you? You really did just try to help him out. Mercedes said that's what it looked like."

Puck thought Hudson's head might explode from thinking so hard, the way he was so focused on Puck, he eyebrows furrowed and a small frown turning down the corners of his mouth.

"Fuck off, man," Puck muttered and stalked away. The last thing he needed was one of the X freaks to think that he was a nice guy. That sort of thing only led to disappointment.

But, somehow, he wasn't as lucky as he hoped he would be. When he got out of school that day there was someone leaning against the car. Santana and Brit were staying behind for cheerleading, Dave and Azimio were staying for football, and Blaine was going with his trick of the week to find someplace more private, like he did most Mondays. His Monday afternoon car ride, the music he loved blasting as loud as he wanted it to, going as fast or as slow as he pleased, was always his favorite time of the week and he could tell that even that was going to be ruined for him now. The man leaning against his driver's side door was the curly haired teacher from the Xavier Institute. The one Puck had seen at the park with the rest of the Xavier freaks one Saturday in the summer. They'd all had a picnic. The man in front of him had brought along a guitar and a lot of them were singing. Puck had had to pretend that it didn't affect him in anyway as he passed them, hiding behind a tree for a bit just to listen. And he'd pretended he hadn't been imagining being a part of them when he'd gotten home and played the matching harmonies to the song he'd heard on his own beat up six string, one of the only things he'd taken from his house when he'd left.

"What do you want, man?" He asked. The man leaning against his car straightened and took off his sunglasses.

"We know you didn't attack Kurt, Noah."

Puck resisted the urge to close his eyes and let his name coming so easily from an adult's lips affect him, "My name's Puck, man. Only my mother calls me Noah."

"Okay," the man smiled as if he understood. Puck scoffed internally. Like he ever could, "My name's William, but no one calls me that but my mother, either. You can call me Will if you'd like."

"Alright then, Will." He tried to infuse it with as much sarcasm as he could, "Why the hell are you leaning against my car and what the hell do you want?"

"We've heard a lot about you, Puck," Will said quietly, "A lot from our kids. You're different from some of Sue's other kids. Why are you still with them?"

"Hey," Puck shrugged, "It's a roof over my head and permission to be as bad as I want. What else does a guy need?" It sounded lame even in his head, but now that he'd said it he had to own it. He bare managed to keep from wincing.

"Maybe someone to tell you that you don't have to be bad at all?" Will asked sincerely, "Maybe someone to tell you you're not?"

Puck felt like he'd been doused in icy water. For a moment, his whole body felt frozen in time. In that instant he let himself imagine that the man in front of him was offering him a place at Xavier's instead of just pretending to get him so that he would give them information on the attack on one of their own. In that one minute he felt…but, no it wasn't worth it. His father's voice was in his head again. Worthless…Rotten…Not good enough…Better if he was dead…All words and phrases he'd gotten used to years ago. He wouldn't allow himself to think otherwise. It just wasn't worth it when they sent him away again, laughing as he walked. Better to be the one to walk before they had the chance to laugh.

"Look…whatever, man. Maybe I attacked your kid, maybe I didn't. Don't really care enough to remember either way."

"You held him when you could have just left him on the ground, Puck." Will sighed, "Mercedes told us you looked like you were trying to care for him. Maybe you don't need to be as bad as you think you do." Will sighed and stood straight from his relaxed position against the car, "Look, you know where to find us if…If you need us for any reason…I…Maybe you ought to think about whether you're where you should be or not."

"Real eloquent, man," Puck said quietly, pushing down the pain threatening to stop up his throat, "But, we both know I'm not good for anything but The Brotherhood."

"Noah, I don't think that…" Will sighed and cut himself off before starting again, looking directly at Puck this time, "The invitation is always open. You decide you need anything you know where to find us."

Will moved away from the car and toward a motorcycle three spaces down, clasping Puck's shoulder for a second as he passed. Puck felt the hand on his shoulder, the first time a man had touched him without the intention to hurt that he could remember, and felt it on his shoulder for a long time after it had been removed.


End file.
